…midnight

Windless, yet there is still the silent song of the leaves
as evening slowly fades into night
a backdrop of stars like dew on cobwebs shaken free
a blissful reverie of colourful dreams
fragrance drips, the night is vast and boundless
a flicker of lightning in the distance
the moon is ghostly white, paled upon dark lawn
shadows huddle, take imperfections away
there is a quiet source of every thought and no distraction at all
half past midnight, a place to gather my dreams
a darkness that stretches miles and keeps moving
it works upon ones’ mind, thoughts of deeper things
and silver whispers creep across the clouds
© Ann Bagnall