The moon’s outline in the sky
tells my body it’s too early for another day.
Trees once danced in numbers,
now sparse; replaced by houses, people.
The wind whistles down from the hills,
moving through my nightie, blowin’ my hair.
Forgotten clouds appear shyly,
creeping closer to the moon, hiding her outline.
The darkness and the light interweave
leaving strange shapes and shadows at dawn.
Whispers from the shadows and the wind
call me back to something known, yet unknown.
I retreat inside, knowing well I should have listened.
