Delicate


Here's a poem I wrote inspired by Madcap Monday


Here's to those quiet hours
when the moon reigns the sky;
when the air is cool, still, and
noises are delicate .

Delicate as in
a cricket strumming its legs,
a mouse drumming its paws,
and peep frogs reverbing
among the leaves.

All humming, droning and
buzzing of the daydwelling creatures
has evaporated.

You could say the night is like a canvas.

Within those chasms of solitude
lay toothy mountains for
dreams to scale and
fertile soil for songs to take root.

Here's to those quiet hours
when artists reign the night.
Our stories, songs and creations
are anything but delicate.

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