Hole In The Hedgerow

Poetry, Stories, and Other Musings With Spilt Ink


Violins Through the Night

The time the crickets come out


Chirping in the dark from somewhere unseen


Their violin legs ring out of the shadows


Then cicadas call and the frogs they chirp


The birds will sing come morning just before light


In the dark the sounds they shout
Calling out to the night


The fireflies with their lighthouse beacons


Fearing the coming dawn’s light
They wink at me and glow and fade slow


The shouts reach my sleepless ears


They’re calls for all that’s near


Though they speak a language I do not their calling I can hear


I call into the dark with them through the night


To be heard by a sleepless ear


Or seen by a tired eye


Fearing the coming dawn’s light


I call out into the night



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