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  • I often think that the night is more
    alive and more richly colored than
    the day.

    Vincent Van Gogh

    Gold rising moon
    wakes up the frogs,
    and the frogs
    wake up the owls.

    The owls get the bats
    going, swoosh, swoosh.
    The hawks, trying to sleep,
    complain briefly.

    All this activity
    stirs up insomniac squirrels,
    who briefly mistake
    the moon for rising sun.

    A nightbird, whose voice
    sounds like metal
    scraping rusty metal,
    shrieks, then flies away.

    In their lavender redoubt,
    the rabbits move closer:
    this is not a good time
    to leave their safe haven.

    As I step out into the night,
    the kingdom’s residents
    suddenly fall silent,
    How do they do that?

    Summer approaches.
    Soon, the rhythmic chirring
    of crickets will fill the air,
    and the night, and the world.

    (Photograph by Alex in Whispering Winds, in the 3-D virtual world of Second Life)
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