The Woodland's Secrets At Night In Springtime

When at last, tender diurnal light dies

And distorted, spectral shadows lengthen,

Steadily, a profound stillness arrives

Cloaked in a velvet gown. Song birds settle

In meagre nests of twigs and thistledown.

And fresh flowers close their drowsy petals.

One can only hear lullabies of sound.

It's a time of sweet repose so subtle,

Where in the wild woodland nooks and crannies,

Miniscule, surreal creatures gently stir,

In leafy murmurs of spring's healing breeze.

O they dart between bush and conifer.

Under a harvest of stars! Certain owls

And bats take self- assured flight on noiseless,

Beating wings. They're softly nurtured and crowned

By mysterious, moon-lit caresses.

My spellbound pen is inclined to transcribe

The deeper beauty of this potent night;

And the secret realms where dreams are woven;

Which our ordinary senses suspend.