Crickets chirp
Mosquitoes buzz
Bullfrogs croak in the distance.
Footsteps sound--
The crunching of grass
The rustle of leaves.

A silent figure strides over the grass,
gliding across the meadow.
Shadows conceal my face
from a full moon
but I have nothing to hide.
I come,
my soul laid bare
under the night sky,
beneath the stars' unbiased judgment.

I raise my arm and beckon
The crickets cease their cacophony of sound.
And when I lower it
the sound begins anew.

I let the night music flow around me
Let my nocturne play up to the sky.
It lifts my spirits, sets me free,
Holds me up so I can fly.

Violins and cellos
sound through the night breeze,
an steady ostinato of chirps.
Beautiful, ornate,
exquisite, resplendent
colors of melody flow and ebb like the tide.

A percussive buzz cuts clear through the night
A splash of sunlight
on the moonwashed leaves.
A flare of sound--
Bold fanfares thunder,
boom.

The wind ruffles my hair
And the moon illuminates my eyes.
They shine hazel
but with the spark of life
and then they're concealed again.

I reach over and grab my baton
its rough bark wet with the night dew.
Its tip sways to the beat
Fluidly,
with expression
that human words do not know.

I let the night music flow around me
Let my nocturne play up to the sky.
It lifts my spirits, sets me free
Holds me up so I can fly.

I let the music take me
I let it carry me forwards,
let it pull me to new words.
Strange worlds, different worlds
Odd, yet familiar.

I sing my soul under blue skies
Under alien suns,
into the night.
I dance through a field of colors,
Wave my arms,
waltz with the one I love
The perfect one for me.
We embrace.

I live on majestic seas
in ferocious jungles
In romance
in tragedy.
I live happily ever after
time and time again
as the beats wash over me
as the rhythms dance down my spine.

I let the night music flow around me
Let my nocturne play up to the sky.
I hardly recognize the sights I see
All is new again,
refreshed in my mind's eye.

Crickets chirp,
Mosquitoes buzz,
Bullfrogs croak in the distance.
Footsteps sound,
my footsteps--
The crunching of grass,
The rustle of leaves
fades away to a slow fine.

And then I bow
to my audience of leaves and trees
Of still ponds and peaceful lilies.
I drop the twig I've been holding all this time,
let it land on the grass without a second thought,
without a sound.
My hair conceals my face
from my judge
and my critics,
the moon and the stars.
A lone firefly lights its lantern in the distance.
All is still.
All is quiet.

Then, without a word,
without verbal command or cue,
my orchestra
plays its night music around me.