Northern Night



The lake is calm,
Without a breeze.
Bedecked with stars,
Above the trees.
And Ursa Minor
Points the way.
While moonbeams
On the ripples play.
And standing on
The dock, I hear,
Kathunk, kathunk,
As boat bunts pier.
Some plashing faintly
Down the shore.
A creature lands
To rest once more.
The birches rustle
Just behind.
A single puff
Of cooling wind.
And peeper frogs,
With chorus sweet,
Perform where grass
And lilies meet.
Then basso bull,
In search of love,
With thunderous throat
His troth to prove.
Mosquitoes skim
The fluid face;
And water-bugs
Their etchings trace.
But then a hush,
A freeze, a pause;
Some recess called
By Nature’s laws.
And dimly, faintly,
He is heard.
The eerie voice
Of diving bird.
A plaintive low,
And yodel sighs..
Raised far out there
To Northern Skies.
Primordial scene,
And timeless tune.
The concert of
The Common Loon.

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