Poetry

A little tale

Dark lets down its itching feet

to wriggle its toes in the springy grass.

It waves to Moon, who winks her encouragement,

and then it rushes down the hills to dance in the glades,

to leap onto roofs and chimney pots.

All night long, it can be seen merry making,

laughing with owls and chittering after bats,

but after so many hours of leaping about,

weariness rushes over it

and up to its bed it goes, dragging its feet back

under the orange sky.