Forest Edge Night

not sleepy, spread soft blankets on soft grass; lie down staring up, dark-bluish dome, April's starless sky; head propped on wrist, hearing voices of the night; sharp creaking of branches, rustlings in dense foliage; tree trunks breathing low, swaying, whispering canopies; bush rodent screams at owl's haunting, hooting soliquy; scared mouse squeaks in the hissing, winding sand-hills; duck's wings thrum, swooping slow from distant lakes; wild dog howls at absent but not forgotten moon; westerly wind stirs, blowing all other sounds away; none in the hush but the soft crackling of lame flame; dozing off now, can't stoke to life the dying embers; ashes, faint smoke, linger long for me to vaguely remember !