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Sep 2020
Lulling to the cicadas screeching
nightly
Bulging dew drops shimmering
brightly
Tree limbs grasping moonlight
tightly
Fireflies flickering ever so
slightly
Fairies tickling flowers; so
sprightly
Centaurs galloping bare, but
knightly
It's true that I should admit
rightly
Nights at the grove are nothing but sightly
The beautiful nights that make a poet's mind wonder into the deep deep lusts of illusive myths and the aspiring grace of nature at its darkest.
Piyath
Written by
Piyath
742
     Seth Seaman and Amanda Kay Burke
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