Midnight's Madrigal

whispering wind o'er the leaf-littered floor;
weightlessness traced in the runner's tread
music etched deep in the cardiac roar,
wound through each lung-stabbing breath it is fed

and here in the Midnight the shadows are strings;
the strings of an orchestra waking the heart
and here in the Midnight the simplest things
are wondrous, beautiful, breath-taking art

timelessly drawn through the unnumbered path,
giddiness glints through the runner's eyes
etheric wings trail the night-swaddled swathe
echoing joy to the velvety skies

and here in the Midnight the shadows are dreams
the dreams of a universe waking the mind
and here in the Midnight the ineffable gleams
are glimpses of grandeur for mortals to find.