Night
Sunlight fades heralding the night.
Sounds etch the silent dark.
The hoot of an owl,
The bark of a fox.
The whisper of a passing breeze,
Leaves that rattle in the wind,
Grass bends to it's passing touch,
Rivers flow like quicksilver in the moonlight
Silence flows back to reign supreme,
Until the rising sun chases the night away.
Copyright © John Bostock | Year Posted 2019
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