In the depth of night
when a choir of crickets becomes a blanket of silence, my mind can relax. All the madness of the day is behind me. All the problems I faced are covered with stillness. It is a time of spiritual reflection with no one but me and whatever is looming within the beyond.
Blue Room
Reply with your own interpretations of night.
NOTE: An earlier version of this poem was first published by Postcard Poetry and Prose.
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