I should be inside sleeping by now
but oh how the stars crown
those treetops with enchanted light,
with Ursa Major there
and Cassiopeia, I think that’s her,
over that way reclining fair.
The warm wind is soft tonight
and it’s quiet here.
But not so quiet,
with insect choruses
chanting that familiar
night-song of theirs
here to me.
It’s three o’clock in the morning -
no one knows I'm out here
in the backyard drinking wine
and contemplating the world.
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