Whistle Whippoorwill close by my window.
A whippoorwill is singing,
Chanting its night long song so loudly I cannot sleep.
Instead,
I listen to the ringing voice of the forest.
Instead,
I hear the vibrant and musical voice of night.
Sweet voiced bird in some exotic garden.
Ten thousand years ago,
You may have raised your song.
It could be that moment now.
Here,
Beneath the stars,
The moon that shone then,
Across still waters,
Shines even now,
Illuminating the lake.
Oh,
Twilight creature,
With your song you vividly remind me that this night could be the past or future.
I have heard your magical calling all this life,
As others heard it long ago in other lives,
As others may hear it ages long from now.
Whistle Yes,
You,
Bird of the night time forest,
Singer whom I have never seen,
You are the prophet of timelessness.
Your song,
In its clarity,
Reveals the guarded secret of life,
Unfolds the hidden message to my senses,
That time and eternity are one.
Written by Isabella Fusk McFarlane,
Also known as Ladybell.
At Still Lake,
Florida,
March 30th to April 1st,
1975.
Thank you,
Dear Isabella.
It's so beautiful.
And then for the avian lovers out there,
Isabella would like to add that she knows that it probably was not a whippoorwill,
But a chuckwills widow call that she heard.
But as you can see,
That would make things just too complicated.
We're sticking to whippoorwill.
They're very,
Very closely sounding,
So.
.
.
Thank you for listening.
We love you.
Until we meet again,
Fly free.
Thank you.
I love you.
