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Nighthawk

By J Ann Crowder

I could smell rain saturating air, infused by gardens of wet mint, rosemerry, and sage
 
As I sat on my concrete porch—its tinkering on my rooftop and dance of iridescent droplets free falling sung in unison 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
 
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
 
silent, singing chord’s of inspiration resume as rain forges spring’s beauty

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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