The Night Poem by Neelabh Datta
The Night
Rating: ★4.5
In a scented wood
an owl is calling
over the resting land
the night is falling
The air is sweet
with the scent of may
the birds are asleep
waiting for day....
In the purple night
no showing of light
a breeze is blowing
rustling the tree leaves
with a soft little sigh.
The owl is so still
giving a soft little shrill
Sunday, December 22, 2013
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5/12/2024 11:27:06 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Very mind feeling poem. You wrote very well.