Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Near the Mount Simon Cemetery
one lonely whip-poor-will sings
of another childless summer.

haven't heard whip-poor-wills in ages - when I was a kid I'd sometimes spread out my sleeping bag on our big screened-in porch, & read Jack London by the yellow bug light. I still remember the smell of the aged vinyl of the chaise-longe, & the chanting of the whip-poor-wills out in the night...