Night. The gentle hush on <br />Tiptoe, looking here... <br />Looking there...finding <br />Leaves on the ground <br /> <br />Which will be the coolness <br />Of dew in the morning. <br />Little creatures have gone <br />To bowers of grass under <br /> <br />Huge branches, blown <br />Down years before when <br />Night hosted a hurricane. <br />Nature's meticulous <br /> <br />Pruning. This night there <br />Will be nothing for the small <br />To fear. Quietness. Calm. <br />Night is getting the table <br /> <br />Of Morning dressed with <br />Elegant, silver, dew...for <br />Little things, birds, to sip. <br />Night cares for each, her own.<br /><br />elysabeth faslund<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/night-the-elegant-lady/
