Midnight Poetry

Midnight is that moonlit moment,

where cool mountain air tickles

the dark and sleepy green of the pines.

Midnight my body feels like lead,

yet my mind flies into silver clouds

floating beneath the stars.

Midnight the next day is born.

It is too small to do anything,

a crying infant, we soon rock ourselves,

a dissolving volume of heavy thoughts.

Midnight drinks my dreams.

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W. Gilbert