Eying the moon on this quiet night,
I value the silence and solitude.
Quiet nights are a gift
A sanctuary from a harsh,
I open a window to let the moon in.
To smell the fragrance of night.
To hear the rain.
And raise my voice.
To yell at the ghosts to stop playing so roughly
Near my deadly nightshade bushes
To wipe their skeletal feet before coming in
To not spoil their appetite – STOP! EATING! MY NIGHTSHADE!