Midnight is such a curious time, far from dusk, further from dawn, yet the middle, the end, the restart.
In the middle of a midnight song,
Came the parakeet,
A bird of flame,
A bird of deep indigo's keep,
And into that blessed night,
Of it's own song it gave,
Not born of fright,
Nor for mirth or sonnet's might,
Yet for rekindling of heaven's fire.
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