Nightly

a song of winter sounds

A. Christine Myers

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Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash

The murmur of dried grass heads
Unwinding gently on the crisp, cold air;
The melancholy lowing of a distant cow —
Communication half complaint, half melody;
Faint barkings far along the field edge
To keep coyotes quiet for the moment
As neighbor’s dog patrols the sere
And frosted pastures. Sound by sound,
And every sound is one
With night and all its quiet mysteries,
The life that breathes beneath
The beaver’s moon,
Life full of breath and hope,
Lived between snow and starlight,
A cache of summer corn and dreams
Of distant spring; all things that dwell
Among the sounds and odors of the moon,
Scenting distant storms upon the air,
And one small vole asleep,
Just settled between clumps of withered grass.

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