The stillness of nights

November Poem Day #12: 

The stillness of nights

In the country, nights are peaceful
and serene—no lights, no artificial sounds.
Yet, when you sit beneath
the weeping willow, the serenity
of the night erupts into a cacophony
of night sounds, nature’s sounds—
of owls out in the woods somewhere,
hooting for their own to respond.

Along Spring Creek, the mallards float in,
wings bent just so, and calmly land
in the middle of the creek
or on the eddy, quacking sounds of joy
or comfort or just being out of the air.

Amidst the constant gurgling
of the creek as it swirls downstream,
frogs croak incessantly while the crickets chirp
in cadence with them and other night sounds.

Mosquitos continually cluster around your head,
buzzing viciously, perhaps, trying
to find the most perfect spot to stick you.

Some nights, the coyotes sit secluded,
maybe perched on the hillside,
yipping, one to another
while the horses in the corral
whinny good nights to each other.

Soon the pheasants begin
their musical crowing
until a fox or something rustles
them to flush, uttering
excited two-note calls
as they burst through the night.

These nights sounds, and so many others,
calm us, transport us to a place
of serenity and tranquility away
from the busyness of our lives.

To hear the placidity within ourselves,
we must hush the fears and concerns
that rope our lives, turning us
this and that way, scattering
them to places far and wide.

Yet, the serenity of it all stills
those thoughts, quells our scatterings,
lulls us into thinking all is mostly well,
and we succumb to noiselessness
of the peace that quenches
the longings of our souls.

November 12, 2022