by Amy Michelle Wiley
8/26/2007 / Poetry
A soft breeze blows through the willow trees this night.
The full moon rises and fills the field with silver light.
Listen and you will hear the crickets chirping in the grass,
And the frogs croaking their lullaby to the tadpoles huddled in a mass.
The night owl hoots, then flies away on silent wings,
While the stars in their shapes make delightful things.
I love the sounds on a summer night.
They remind me of God's majestic might.
copyright 2008 Amy Michelle Wiley
Amy is a freelance writer and editor and a professional sign language interpreter. She is the director of Peculiar People--an international collaborative fiction organization. Her website is www.sparrowsflight.net
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