Mercy,  press tightly

against my shoulder,

and hold me,

hold me even more tightly

as the moist breath

of the early June breeze

wafts its way

ever so softly

through the window,

and the night is alive

with the ambience

of amphibian sound,

frogs singing the mating dance

down at the dark waters

from the chirps

of the little gray-green fellows

to the loud “auums”

of the bull frogs.

Mercy, seep down

into the flow of my being.

Let not the brittle black

with its harsh pin-pricks

lay against my mind,

but pass me into slumber instead

under the gentle

canopy of blue-black sky

where the stars hint

of being forever

with their twinkling refractions.

Mists of love

cradle me now

coming up from the deep

where life swims,

and hops and struggles

with sinuous, serendipitous grace

in sonorous songs

of early summer joys.

And, Mercy, caress

me in your arms

that I might sleep,

the sleep of the loved,

against the night

of life passing.

Copyright 2010, Jerry W. Engler