By J Ann Crowder

I could smell rain saturating midnight air infused by gardens of wet mint, rosemerry, and sage
 
As I sat on my concrete porch, dreaming
 
It's melodious tinkering on my rooftop, a dance of liquid sunshine free falling, sung in chorus with my soul
 
As my heart quickened, I could sense the nighthawk near
 
I envisioned him looming in the pinewoods above
 
His beady eyes of black beckoning my heart
 
His talons festering
 
His beak quaking and scolding
 
With a persistent squawk, he keeps me from sleep
 
He calls my inner child’s name
 
For a moment, all is still as tapestries freeze upon my mind’s creative wonder
 
Rain infuses my every sense of being
 
The nighthawk nods with approval
 
silently singing chord’s of inspiration resume, like a harp string's binding and eternal unison
 
Thus, time steals moments only to uncover picture frame upon picture frame, never forgotten
 
By and by, rain forges spring's heavy duvet of glory like a writer's pen sketches a frame's timeless beauty within

Written May 29th, 2017. The nighthawk strikes usually at night. He is the silent nudge we feel, urging us to take flight and accomplish the extraordinary things we long to do in this life. He often leaves us with a prolonging restless and sleepless feeling inside.

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Nelson D Reyes
over 2 years

My night angel in armor, he sits at the foot of my bed but often on my headboard, knows exactly when I should turn the lights off and entertains Satan away from my bed. Like. Thank you Jennifer.
Lovely picture.

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Nelson D Reyes
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