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.
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