Watching, Waiting, Listening
The trees rustle
and swish above streams that
gurgle and sing.
The birds warble happily
whilst the crickets sing,
rivaling the birds themselves.
The clouds drift silently on
as the sun lowers in the sky
and the air grows colder.
I sit upon a mossy stone,
watching, waiting, listening.
Silent as an owl's wing.
At last, the shadows deepen
into night, and I hold my breath
in anticipation of what is to come
The moon steals softly
over the starlit sky,
and the night animals begin to stir.
Peepers sing in the brook
as the crickets head off to bed,
their sleepy voices fading away.
A fox slinks through the shadows,
on the trail of a mouse.
Squeak! A shrill pip pierces the night
.
I rise from my mossy stone, still
watching, waiting, listening.
As a cloud draws slowly over the moon, I slip silently away.