The lane lay clean,
with not even a dumped grain,
the dogs away in the hut,
with sloping tail and mouth shut.
the squirell in a rush,
through the forest and green brush.
the stars in the sky glitter,
to share a glimpse of beauty to the nature.
the moon screaming its` best light.
reaching the beds and grills and the babys` sight,
touching the gentle little buds,
through the shrubs and the sheds,
greeting the mother earth in rise,
never which she can reach even in guise.
the owls away in the deep hunt,
making parties with bats and the mounts.
the little mouse busy in work,
dreaming to empty the farmers` grainary in dark.
and the dead souls resting in peace,
taking fresh breath through the breeze,
sitting aback at their graves,
with gloofy hairs and bushy shaves.
all this is a sight of a calm midnight,
when even the creator is sleeping tight