t’is the time of year near the end of summer where
the cicadas, the crickets, the sleeping frogs, in sync,
exhale their nocturnal sleeping sounds telling the
flora and fauna know it is time to rest underneath
a brilliant full moon in the nights' noir after light of
day
if not for my nocturnal clock being displaced by the
days’ events with thoughts dancing about in my head
where my empathic spirit doth fret, mine eyes would
close letting my mind rest, along with my incarnate
shell, as my canine aged friend lies upon my chest
because of this my heart doth beat and my breath
ceases not, i am more fortunate than many, awaiting
for the sun to nudge the moon’s display and take its
place, awakening all who have the fortunes of sleep to
embrace a new day
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