Night Rains, a poem

Night Rains

As Spring veils itself in mists of rain,
voices swell in soft, subdued refrain,
muted peeping rising from the ponds,
distant rattle of palmetto fronds,

whispered dripping from the shrouded oak.
In the dark, a lone night heron’s croak
echoes, fading, on its way toward dawn
where the feeding doe seeks out her fawn,

hidden, dappled as the light of morn
in the stillness of a day new-born.
Every question murmured through the long
nocturne finds some answer in bird song,

as these silent shadows yield to gray,
as the hours of night rains pass away.

Stephen Brooke ©2025