round about midnight all is quiet.
all is still and the day has finally had its fill.
the stars are countless, the moon shines bright
I hear the song of birds at night.

a dear sweet harmony of song
content, the birds seem to belong,
as they weave into the nighttime breeze
a melody that fills the trees.

I wonder if when day arrives
they close their little birdie eyes.
do they sleep while other choirs
sing through out the daylight hours?

04/23/2002

Posted on 04/23/2002
Copyright © 2024 Mary Ellen Smith