[An Enigmatic Loneliness]

An enigmatic loneliness
Has nestled on my porch—
A mottle-feathered camouflage
Against his stony berth.

At first, I thought ‘twas I who cried
That sad, autumnal song—
It echoed as His shadow moved
Upon the watered lawn.

I wonder if the Whippoorwill
Will note when I take wing,
And rest a second, nest-less perch
To sing my mourning hymn.

© 2021 Cheryl L. Abbott

In the style of Emily Dickinson, inspired by reading about the death of her nephew, Gilbert, whose death affected her deeply; she never really got over it.