The sky, stained pink from the melting sun,
Awoke the stars and moon from their
Hypnotic trance. The sickening scent
Of honeysuckle soaked the air.

The swaying, soothing sound of wind
Crept through the trees, brushing my cheek
As I reclined on the springy mat,
Chilled by the damp, cool summer breeze.

My slightest turn would cause the springs
To creak and groan from many years
Of jumps. So I stayed still to hear
The voices of the night, quiet and clear.