Stroke of Midnight

I walk in the garden at the stroke of 
midnight. 
The moon is as bright as the sun on a clear 
day. 
The beams of light are warm to my cheek.
The flowers smell like natural candy. 
The trees whisper to each other as I walk 
underneath them. 
A rabbit runs across a grassy meadow 
And suddenly is attacked by a vicious wolf. 
Its remains are infested with grackles. 
The bones of the fallen hare cry out to the
feathers of the fleeing crow. 
The grackles are screeching as they slowly 
fade away.