Sleep, child. Night is here.
Moon spills soft light, shadows rest,
and crickets sing. Dream.
_____________________
Ellen Symons
Poetry, essays, and various forms of nature reports
Sleep, child. Night is here.
Moon spills soft light, shadows rest,
and crickets sing. Dream.
_____________________
Why, thank you … I’ll read this aloud to my small-self tonight when I lie down to sleep. It is very soothing indeed. Won’t even matter that I don’t have any crickets to listen to nearby. You made me imagine them. <3, L.
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<3, E.
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