As the rumbling clouds move through the night,
All the bats talking cause quite a fright.
A flitter, a flutter, a squeak and a squawk,
Disturb the raccoons from their prowling walk.
All the silent things wake,
The moon is a flashlight, searching the stars,
The pond is a sea, with lily pad boats,
Then, with a shudder, all turns still,
For dawn is here,
But they will wake tomorrow when midnight comes,
And it will.
By Frosty
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