The wind not rustling in the trees
No babies cry thier wailing tears
No children whisper of thier fears
No dogs see the need to bark
As the moon sits on her shelf of dark
Like an old tome filed away
For a child to find some rainy day
Jast as many secrets held within
As a crones book of whims
To those who wander in the night
The moon protects and gives them light
Things dance that no one will ever see
And the night is as perfect as it could be