In the soft embrace of evening’s calm,
when shadows form and daylight wanes,
I find a peace, a gentle longing place,
in quiet’s pocket of secret grace.

The sky, in hues of coloured light,
displays her art in evening air,
as blue gives way to inky dark and
pin-prick stars punch twinkling holes.

The movement of the winter leaves,
the murmur of the coolish breeze,
lifts my spirit above the everyday
to this intimacy in which I lay.

And in this quiet there is a song,
a melody from time’s sweet flow,
that takes me back to all that’s been
and all that lives in presence now.

So here I sit in twilight’s awful grace,
surrounded by night’s approaching veil,
bound upon the sacred earth and looking
out in wonder at the sculpture of the sky.

1/6/2024