The full moon
rose bright and beautiful
last night,
with low clouds floating across it,
making it even more beautiful.
Fireflies dashed and flashed greenish light
against the silhouette of trees.
Later, heavier clouds arrived
and obscured moon from view,
though the clouds couldn’t
obscure its light.
The cloudy night
was aglow,
casting shadows
in through the bedroom window.
I awoke just after midnight
to outrageously exuberant
birdsong.
Mockingbird was singing
in the glow of the obscured moon.
An hour and a half later,
I awoke again
and Mockingbird was still singing.
An hour after that,
cool wind blew in the bedroom window
and I awoke
to see lightning in the eastern sky.
The light show was a symphony.
Mockingbird was silent.

This morning,
there is sunshine
and everyone is singing—
Mockingbird
and Cardinal
and Woodpecker
and Phoebe
and Cowbird
and the Meadowlarks,
who have changed their bright whistle,
adding a measure to their teasing lilt.