In somber silence of my mind,  stillness in the knowing I’m alive.

In thought that glorifies, what is never really still.

The night creatures stir their portion in the night~

Toads do their croaking,  making their own songs heard,  while the owl hoots,  and night bird songs come to life.

I hear beating wings on the breeze,  as the cricket plays sweetly,  in the night.

There is  really no somber silence,  as we all know,  nothing is still…

C. Burgess (c)