#whippoorwill
Fireflies dance beneath the moonlit sky
Their firey tails blazing thousands of suns
Flashing in harmonious rhythm
To a song known only to spirits of the forest
Where trees root themselves to a verdelant chorus
Swaying in soft waltz as the wind caresses green boughs
Groaning under the weight of the starry firmament
<A reflection from above to what is below>
An infinity of dazzling diamonds winking in starlight
Tune themselves to the melody of distant earth
Where moon bathes the world in grey washed relief
Illuminating the new born fawn that prances in sync
To his mother's cautious attention
Her eyes reflecting love in full as Luna guards her young
Beneath the light of midnight
Behind her, a chirping symphony of raucous crickets
Reached a vibrating crescendo which echoes across the land
A ringing accompaniment to the bass dravel of the wayward toad
Whose thump, thumping excites the prowling fox
To pounce about in a furry pirouette in an attempt to seize the treble
Of the screeching barn owl that cuts through the night
Spinning in a controlled dive bomb of deadly talons
Searching for their late night victim whose screams
Provide the lyrical movement to which nature plays master
To the goings on of life, beyond the light of the day
In the distance, a lone whippoorwill cries in anguish
As the sun rises and dawn brings an end to his song
Whip
Whip
Whippoorwill
Apr 28
Apr 28, 2026 at 1:46 PM UTC
The cold hands of January
grasp at February’s promise,
the warmth of March
always just out of reach.
You rub my shoulders,
kiss away the ache
as April continues her rain
over gentle, submissive May.
We sing the song of the whippoorwill,
its haunting anthem spilling
out across the valley floor
when June gives in to July
and August crowns the summer sky.
September will leave
when the colors bleed,
October betrayed by the coming frost.
What will you do
when November comes,
when ice and pain
move in to claim my breath?
Comfort me.
Smile with me.
Lie to me.
Tell me there is no December.
Jan 5, 2021
Jan 5, 2021 at 8:41 PM UTC
I sometimes sit alone at night,
All huddled up and out of sight,
And listen to the whippoorwill;
She welcomes darkness with her trill.
Her feathers bear no colored spot,
A peacock’s beauty, she has not,
But still, she perches calm and proud,
As she sings her name aloud.
She doesn’t know that she is plain,
And continues singing her refrain,
I smile, knowing all along;
Her beauty rests within her song.
May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 12:16 AM UTC
Deep in the mountains
In the still of the evening
Daylight is waning
A whippoorwill casts whispers
To the sunlight’s vast shadows
Aug 27, 2017
Aug 27, 2017 at 10:24 AM UTC
i hide away during the days
watching the other birds in flight
i don't know their tunes, they say
those songbirds are the social type
i guess the day was made for them
just like the night was made for me
i'll just wait here until the dusk
all alone, in my tree
i don't fit in with their flashy ways
my feathers just aren't as bright
they sing so pretty in sunlight rays
as i await my turn to cry at night
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 8:34 AM UTC