Meanwhile, back at the rain forest, Mrs. Trowbridge has written a poem about her nighttime walks. She loved walking in the forest at night. Trowbridge shrews are noctural creatures, you know. She wrote a lot of poems in her journal. I should have shared this one with you earlier in the summer, sometime in June, to coordinate with the poem. Perhaps I'll share more of her poetry with you in future episodes. This is one of my favorites...
A STARRY NIGHT IN JUNE
by Violet Trowbridge
Sometimes at dusk I climb the hill
to watch the stars appear.
The trail is steep, the brook is deep,
the air is crisp and clear.
The sunset casts as eerie spell
upon the earth below.
The peaks are dressed their summer best
in gleaming alpenglow.
The evening sky is lavender
with shades of amber gold.
The sun goes down, the colors fade,
the mountain wind turns cold.
Just o'er the hill the crickets sing
in four-part harmony.
What do I hear just up the creek?
A bullfrog symphony
My special place up near the top
is like a long-lost friend.
It's always there, come foul or fair
around the misty bend.
On nights like this I come to watch
the twinkling starlight show.
The moon climbs high up in the sky.
Its light is soft and low.
The moonbeams dance on drifting tufts
of blowing thistledown.
The flowers gleam like precious stones
upon a monarch's crown.
I gaze across the Milky Way
and dream of days gone by.
Then suddenly a shooting star
streaks across the sky.
The day I met my Woodrow
replays across my mind.
The night that my first litter came,
it follows close behind.
I make my way back down the hill.
My lantern is the moon.
It will be here when I return
some starry night in June.
