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
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