Souls of the Starry Night

The soft wind

is full of silent spirits

that swirl around the stars

and tall, dark evergreens.

 

Young cornfields,

shadowed by blue mountains,

shiver in the cold embrace

of the awakened souls.

 

The high-reaching steeple

stands pale and still

as the ethereal wind knocks

the great brass bell

once, twice.

 

Amongst granite gargoyles

the spirits rest and watch

the lamp-lit glare

of a cat’s eyes in the street.

 

And when the crescent moon

begins its slow descent

the spirits sigh

and swirl around

the stars one

more time.

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