Evening air’s cool fingertips,
lightly caressing my face.
Cedar trees are dancing,
with the moon as a spotlight.
Celestial beings walking,
across the pitch black sky.

Give me that late night fog,
that slinks in across the ground,
like a panther stalking its prey,
quietly and swiftly moving,
through the golden fields,
leaving it’s moist prints,
on every blade of grass.

I am at home after the sun retires,
that time when the coyotes play,
the owls are out on the hunt,
and bats own the airspace.
The symphony of the nocturnal,
sweet orchestral performance,
filling me with joy and peace.

Gorgeous, peaceful, nighttime,
The Sun just doesn’t understand.

-Josef LeBlanc

night moon


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