picture source: https://za.pinterest.com/pin/436427020135168655/ |
Late winter, the night before
Full Moon, it’s 2.41am,
the sky’s as brightly lit as by
the sun, at noon, mid-Summer,
only the brightest of bright
stars grace this time with the moon
and when the wind doesn’t rattle
the leaves in the trees
carrying with it the salty air
from the ocean,
the waves reach for me, crash through
me,
before the night drifts back into
silence
and fluffy white clouds drift
across a cold, lonely sky
to the clicking, it’s the rain
song, of those tiny little frogs…