By Thomas Reynolds

What does my little eye spy?

The flicker of the Serpent’s tongue?

Mosquitoes fluttering near the lake?

A Hum?

A Buzz?

It is the sizzle of the night


Tales as old as Antiquity

Hush little baby don’t you cry

By why would you want a mocking bird?

Peace on earth is the battle cry


Sultan’s wings appear in the night

Cold, crisp and chilled

Stealers of desire

A plant in the sunshine

You wait with mock yearning


Fiddle me tender and fiddle me care

Lost somewhere in the cold midnight air

Rapture in a state of fire

Pulled neatly in the reign

A cold puff of madness feels the air


Alone upon a midnight clear