Last night of the month—
high in a dying pine tree
an owl waits for prey.
Last night of the month—
high in a dying pine tree
an owl waits for prey.
Last night of the month—
high in a dying pine tree
an owl waits for prey.
Last night of the month—
high in a dying pine tree
an owl waits for prey.
Mark M. Redfearn 
Your verbal paintbrush all too often, reaches in and taps on my very Soul…..mysteriously in just 17 beats.
Now that’s a true artiste!