The Nightingales' Lullaby
Their songs are reaching me,
by Alyssa Taylor
slipping through the cracks of my country-side home,
curling up next to me, keeping me warm,
Their lyrics are perched in the tallest of trees,
trees that stand like statues behind my home,
and their arms reach out to cover the land,
and over a creek that overflows
when the sky cries of regret and rage.
Dawn awakens and I hear their songs no more;
I flee outside and search the forest,
but all there is are the utterances of nostalgia,
that poisons the crops of my hungered faith.
However, I giggle at my foolishness:
how could you possibly hear the lullabies where you are?
The honking freeways and city lights you fled to,
must drown out this marvelous country,
that lives for me.