Sleepless Nights Upon the Bough

Roving a youthful shadowed ebony heaven as the earth is still on blissful spring night flight. I fly through and over the enclosing trees, boughs', and the susurration fluttering leaves. I emerge to nesting Nightingales and their cacophony melodious of unfilled cries , calling me to come to appease their needs. Alighting and dripping down for a short quick kiss to each one. I woke to a vision of streaked ,wisps of timeless gray clouds before the morning. It's not a silent night, stars glitter and wink in the dark as they look down on me. Minstrels outside my bedroom window; the birds were there somewhere between the treetops and the cloud bottoms. There will be no sleeping beauty upon these white linens, as a result of reverberating sounds of those crying cuties. 7/2/2017