Music Of The Night Poem by Val Morehouse

2 a.m. and all’s well.
From black depths of sleep

I am drawn by a song.
High on the balcony of the redwood tree,

mockingbird riffles through his repertoire,
that serenade of whispers, warbles, whistles, and chirps,

enough to shame a symphony of whales.
Hear now cat meowing and meadowlark’s,

“See. See. Don’tcha see? ” Then chickadee’s
“twee-ouuu” segues into the “aaan, aaan,

oop, yowza, yowza” of Engine Company #3,
served with a ride of valkerie on the side.

Tossing out passion like birdseed, mocker
trolls the night with music to

catch just the right sleepy lady.
Instead, he gets me.