Whippoorwills are calling – Maine in my memory:
Still salt marsh air trending into dusk,
Fields of grass alight with fireflies,
Crickets and night bug sounds,
Scent of dampening hay,
White daisies in the garden, floating Disembodied.
Barn roof disappearing, drifting away from my porch swing
Into the humid arc of night
Where soon stars sift into the sky,
Like powdered sugar on a cake.
Whippoorwills and dusk are joy of youthful summers
When the world was only of the present senses
Fully open to imprints of wonder.
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Comments about this poem (Whippoorwills by Jhane Marello )
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