Ceiling fans whir
stirring the humid air
and the quiet stillness
June bugs tap, tap, tap the window
wings aflutter, dives inside an open door.
Dies by the light of the moon.
None too soon,
a dark cloak cradles you softly,
against the groans, creaks, and shadows.
melodious midnight masquerade.
NaPoWriMo Day 17 – write a nocturne.