wedded whispers lie weighty in the boughs of burl trees, leaves shivering
lyrical quivers as the poetry passes through the night.The spirits are awakening, under moon bathlight
and starry firmament, they come traipsing stumbling floating flying wafting on
a whiff of air, on a weak whirl of wind.Elsewise, a wolf howls.The frogs
ribbet. The crickets violin.A fearful
memory, a loving touch, a warm bed of soft sheets.Darkness sits everywhere behind the light.