Midnight Spell

At times like this,
Chatter takes a nap.

The air is so refreshing,
Like cheeks pressed on glass.

Twelve sharp rings round the corner,
A cheerful message from Saint Chad.

Twelve low bongs from over town,
Then silence across the land.

Owls hoot on occasion,
Bats offer gentle claps.

Who else feels magic?
Midnight, you enchant.

Leave a Comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s