Moonlight pushes aside the curtain, liquid silver pooling on the bed,
still cold and yet, the mockingbird sings from high on the branch of a budded tree.
Underground the cicadas stir silently, knowing their time is soon,
another full moon their birth herald, their song overwhelming the night.
Still, in liquid silver, lovers will add their voices to the symphony,
no point to sleeping while nature fills the night with sound
that makes the moonlight quiver.
©2013 Noreen Braman
I am still a day behind, but will keep on going.
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