Base

 

 

 

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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