Midsummer night occluded.
Clouds rent slow and pale light.
One rolled silent tumble
Psalming more for gentle gods.
Rising, falling the hills
And through them threaded
Rising, falling hours of owls.
Weeping wonder
Well gone before done,
A brief flick and dreamer dreaming.
simonhlilly 
“Psalming more for gentle gods” – you sure know how to weave a phrase, beautiful poem.
Thanks Janni! Sometimes it’s just a messing around with sound and letting meanings expand outwards.
For sure 😊