The Nighthawk

The Nighthawk

I stare at my winged reflection
as I glide silently along
the still glass of the moonlit lake,
listening for the rattling hum and flutter
of beetles in flight.

Fireflies bounce and bobble
in the reeds of the shoreline,
oblivious to their fate,
as I dive and open my beak.

Tags:
Doug Langille
me@douglangille.ca

Husband, father, writer and shameless technophile.

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