Whip-Poor-Will - Poem by Walterrean Salley
Its name derives,
I have found,
From its signature sound.
There's something about
That little bird has skill!
For its call
And in the stillness of the dark,
Comes its familiar song—
Melodious and strong.
It roams at night.
At times, spontaneous in flight.
With white spots—
Never is it seen a lot.
Men, women, children—all—
Fondly savor its sweet call.
Known to soothe,
Oft' remind them of their youth.
So many tales
Of the whip-poor-will,
Yet, folk seem to love it still.
Though time passes,
Yet, grows the thrill
Of our friend, the whip-poor-will.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
When commenting on my poem, 'The Nightingale's Song' (Please see) , Joseph asked that I would '… throw in the Whip-O-Will.' Therefore, I was inspired to write this piece. Thanks for the inspiration Joseph.
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