You can only hear them during the short summer
nights, when windows are thrown open to scant breezes.
The eerie, and sad feeling, random calls that echo
out from the nearby slough, where by simmering hot day
you can view entire duck families, terns and egrets,
as they go about their daily business of living.
But by night, the slough is deep black, the kind of dark
where a bright full moon can't penetrate the tepid,
seemingly still waters, or the forever whispering reeds,
or the sweet marsh grasses that bend to the breeze.
But, escaping the slough, the melancholic calls
of the unknown night birds, travel out across the land
to fall on insomniacs' ears, touch upon their very souls.
And suddenly, the sultry summer night seems to grow cold.