Brush strokes

Beyond the fence I hear a sigh,

Chimeneas burning in the sky

Hares and foxes rushing by

Song of Night owl singing.

The brush strokes of spongy clouds

So far away from rushing crowds

Peace can be extremely loud

Sound of Night Hawks ringing.

Orange morphing into black

Tomorrow I’ll be coming back

To mend the fence and take the slack

Hearing Night Jars kissing.

Imagination swims and dives

Bringing mindfulness to lives

Busy bees in busy hives

Woodpecker stops its drilling.

Darren April 2020