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.
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