Good Night
Everything is quiet.
Everything is still.
Everyone is sleeping
at the house on the hill.
The chickens are resting.
They don't make a peep.
The cows in the pasture
are sound asleep.
The little boy is tucked
warm in his bed,
a cool pillow nestles
under his head.
Ocean waves lap
down at the shore.
The little boy's daddy
has started to snore.
The palm trees sway,
a coconut drops.
It hits the ground
with a dull thudding
PLOP!
But no one hears it
up on the hill
'cause they're all in bed
and all sleeping still.
The moon smiles down
from the sky above,
on the house on the hill
and the sleepers he loves.
Some poems just insist on coming. I woke up in the middle of last night and I could hear the quiet. I'm excited about this poem because I can see the pictures I want to draw to go with it. When you wake up in the middle of the night, what do you hear? Can you write a poem about that? Have fun writing your own poem.
Today is Poetry Friday, a day to have fun and celebrate poetry. If you'd like to read more poetry posts and more great poetry Catherine is hosting the round up this week on her blog at https://readingtothecore.wordpress.com/ Thanks, Catherine for being a great host.
Oh Sleep! it is a gentle thing... Samuel Taylor Coleridge, The Ancient Mariner
Sleep is when all the unsorted stuff comes flying out as from a dustbin upset in a high wind. William Golding, Pincher Martin, chapter 6.
