It has struck.

Again

The leviathan ariseth

Twice in three moons

Though this time a whimper

It's flung us a-scamper

Like mice in a field

We take to our heels

Again

She shows her wrathful nature

Fate's Fickle Finger

Wrong tree to rest on.

How perfect the glass ball gleams, how perfect
The tides they flow, how serene
Their overlapping rings, so impeccably
They echo in reverberation, an everlasting temptation

Feel the sunshine beat, on the Earth all splendour cast on
Earth, its breathing, a new day awaiting
Nature, she's bleeding, the whole world renewing
Planets revolving, all things a-changing

An Owl's hoot beckons the Night
It returns to find its nest aflight'd
This tallest, sturdiest tree it chose had hollowed
With it, the Owl's dreams of home swallowed

It was so free of vermins, it was definitely suspect
Yet the tall, sturdy tree was just so perfect
Four trees it had tested, yet none permanently nested
The Owl's heart had cried out for rest.