Listening to nightfall

Once the sun has gone,
trees break free
of their static shapes
and make all sorts
of dynamic twists
in the moonlight.
Frogs sing hymns
to their circles of
flowers as they can,
knowing their roots
swim with lost tails.
Sleepy flowers sway
in breezes, taking the night
from petal to petal
without reaching,
a dance of quiet delight,
all lovers and dreamers
embracing in shadow.


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