By Valerie Denay Staton
In the dark of night, the whippoorwill cries as it flitters beneath the night’s blue sky. Master of camouflage, heard, seldom seen, is searching for woodland insects to glean.
Whippoorwill! Whippoorwill! The nightjar trills, as it glowers and swoops, down for the kill.
Insects traversing the forest take heed. For the mottled bird has tremendous speed. It nests on the ground, it perches in trees. It’s gray-brown plumage the color of leaves.
Up at dawn, at dusk, and on moonlit nights, the brindled bird rests with the coming of light. A tiny bird with a magnanimous shrill. Whippoorwill! Whippoorwill! The nightjar trills.
*** The Whippoorwill was published in the book P.S. It’s Still Poetry Volume II, An Anthology of Eclectic Contemporary Poems Written by Poets from Around the Globe on January 6, 2022.
Poetic Reflections 