It Is One A.M.

It is one a.m.

Pale moon reclines

A crescent-gem

Pinned to

Navy lapel

Of a minstrel

Unhindered

By hours

Or silver-soft dazzle

Of snow-flake showers

He plays his tune

On a phantom flute

Soloist serenading

Dark wood

Or poet or lover

We wait until

His song is over

Then

All is still

Save for the clock

That cannot choose

But must tick and tock

To mark time’s dues

But for a brief minute

We lie on the hem

Of silver-soft nothing

It is one a.m.

© Janet Martin

I was about to turn off all the lights but stood a moment to admire the night...there is something rare and brooding about one a.m.

...on that note, good-night!

oops, good morning;)