Photo: Michael J Bennett

There is nothing quite like being outside wrapped in the warm blanket of not quite darkness on a summer night. Everything takes on a slightly mystical edge and there is that tingle of excitement or anticipation, But for what? The things that we can’t see? The things that might yet be? Who knows? It’s a magical feeling, whatever it is.

In the darkness made undark
By the clear pure moon
And the silence that is not
silence, broken
By bat flight and small rustlings
We lay, cocooned between
earth and sky
And heard the stars sing.