When the evening closes its eyes
thrusting wearied souls into slumbering beds
blankets heaped and folded
mending the creases of the day…
Then as the symphonic crickets begin
and the bull frogs belching out another croak
take silence by the horns
and speak deep into the night…
there is where we find this peace,
when our efforts and our workings cease
we find this quiet solemn release.
In the night, blanketed in black
these stars, the lonely sojourners
appear once again to welcome us back.
And we find our rest…but sometimes
true rest is in our finding…