The Finest Night

A cool chill upon my spine, Raises the hairs on my arm. A breeze, whispering secrets in my ear, Revealed all was not fine. Her paleness cast weary light on the land, Illuminating misshapen figures of trees, Sullen shadows reaching out into a black forest, For eyes such as mine which constantly scanned. Perhaps I saw what to others was only night; The gleam of mischief in a raccoon’s eyes, A sweeping tirade of leaves blown quickly ‘round, A twinkle of ripples from a pond as birds made flight. But as I stood there, studying nature’s course, I was suddenly filled with unbearable remorse. Was not this life at its fullest which I peered into? The very heart of what I only seldom did view? Blinded by civilization, no time to witness a pest, I did not see the Earth at surely its finest.