The fabric of night

is pinned to the sky

with crystaline stars.


A calm, moist breeze

caresses my hair

and kisses my cheek.


Delicate blooms

plays hide and seek

on a dead tree stump.


Clear, bright moonlight

shafts through the trees

and splatters the ground.


Pungent, wet soil

of a pregnant earth

invades my senses.


Tiny green sprouts

below brown leaves

pushes up toward life.


I am a child

of the night

This is my springtime.



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