Whistling Nights

Naked trees and memories,
Painted skies and mysteries.
An eerie darkness before us falls,
Bound by nature's looming walls.
And through the black veil of the night,
A guiding path of golden light.

The darkness now far less muting,
The branched twigs no longer imposing.
On the bare branch of a sleeping tree,
A songbird rests endearingly.
And from the ominous night arises,
Beauty sparing all compromises.

A swift white owl in the sky,
A bat's distinct high-pitched cry.
Wings of the night fly with grace
Over the land's calm cozy face.
Oh! to be nocturnal, such dismay,
If only it were night, not day.