I
felt him
as he came
last night at three,
silently walking,
and by no one else seen.
Nightingale was praising him,
a night of satin warm and clear-
brightened by the moon and the stars
a smell of fresh cut grass was in the air.
A million of crickets where chirping loud,
the fireflies light blinking softly-
a caressing touch of the wind,
whispering voices around.
Croaking of frogs then
suddenly silence
water splashing
and I knew
it was
spring
©denise-a. langner-urso
