The October rain gave us a good drenching
erasing every crack in the hard dirt
and frogs sing a melody from the pondside
filling the night with their concert

A slight breeze dances through the trees
casting moonlit shadows in the dark
black and gray outlines
dancing on the ground and on the walls

Between short gusts of wind
trained ears tune in to the rythmn
the constant ebb and flow of the surf
gently pounding the silent shore

A frothy foam kisses the sandy beach
stealing moonlit kisses
then slinking back into silvery water
waiting for the next wave to return again

Nightfall in Treasure Beach
the stillness, the void,
the nearness of night
so close it seems to clothe me

Thanks Night Mood. Love that time and the mood it brings.

True ting turey. I've read your musings on your trips through the northwest bushes. They remind me of an old book I once read entitled "The Silence of The North". It's a fascinatingly true story written by Olive A. Frederickson.

Thanks Night Mood. Mrs Fredrickson's story is heroic. I could drive to town for supplies whenever I wanted anything and Park Rangers kept the wild at bay.


When she was nine years old, Olive Fredrickson witnessed her mother's death in the Arctic wilderness. At nineteen, she married a trapper who led her into a perilous life far removed from the comforts of civilization. When her attempt to run a farm single-handedly, after her husband's death, threatened to end in ruin, Fredrickson walked 40 miles alone to the nearest village, in a desperate attempt to obtain food for her starving family by bartering against future crops. It was a life-or-death journey filled with bears, wolves, and unparalleled danger.

Found this on Amazon.