Full moon

I woke up several times Monday night. It was a hot night. The day temperature had been 90 degrees and we had opened all the windows in the house. The parrots squawked outside throughout the night. The full moon lit up the bedroom. It gave me a dreamlike feeling that I thought I could describe. When I searched on the internet for the name of the slender billed parrots I found something I thought more appropriate:

There was no way to sleep

But the fluttering foliage

went flying off green and alive

each bud learned to fly

and the tree was left naked

weeping in the winter rain

Pablo Neruda: Book: Art of Birds