A Poem — Creatures move, disappearing in the descending blackness.
A nighttime world comes alive
Under rocks and branches, deep within the forest.
Hunters prowl on silent paws, alert under dark skies.
Moonlight filters down between treetops,
Silver streaks of paint on a brown-black canvas ground.
Wind rustles, whispering answers to mysteries,
Heard only by those that listen to the darkness.
Cradled in the arms of night, they find peace and serenity.
The stars, transcendent light from ages past,
Fill the domed ceiling of our planet earth.
Softly a cricket plays a lullaby to a sleeping world.
And the wind rustles, whispering truths
To the ears of those that listen.