late at night when the cold winds howl,

a young mother sings a soft lullaby,

Gently, rocking a babe wrapped in a quilt,

Hoping to keep him warm and dry.


late at night she hears an owl,

Hooting high in an old oak tree,

Nurses the baby at her breast,

Marvels how perfect this child can be;


1late at night and far away,

She hears the whistle of the midnight train,

Lays the baby down in his crib,

and sits down in her chair again.


late at night this young mother waits,

for the familiar scuffle of worn, old boots,

She wont rest until he is home again,

As she hears once more the old owl’s hoot.


Sandra Lee Smith

originally posted January, 2015,

Updated July 17, 2018


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