To the Listeners

A special greeting's going out today
To all our listeners where moonlit doors
Sit undisturbed by knocking, where the floors
Of forests, ferny, still, even in May,
Raise grasses up for champing. Eyes of grey
Will look up skyward, as a lone bird soars
And, slipping from the turret, seeks the shores
Of some unseen dark ocean, far away.

I only want to know if someone hears;
Is one man left awake or, at this hour,
Does iron sound on stone in some dark bower?
A Traveller departs as morning nears,
Our voices reaching out to no one's ears.
I've kept my word. That much was in my power.