Poetry

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A rosy sun slips down behind the pines.
How beautiful the hues of clouds above.
And while the last rays struggle to be seen,
I hear the sad call of a lonesome dove.

As I look out across the rising hill,
Around the pond there is a misty haze.
The cool night air descends upon the earth
And on the hill a fog floats like a glaze.

The frogs emerge with croaks into the twilight.
They serenade as dusk gives way to moon.
In thinning fog a doe stands on the hillside;
Her silhouette reveals her time is soon.

The lunar moths meet at the backyard light,
Attracting bats out from a hollow tree.
The squirrels climb to tops of trees for safety;
A barn owl takes his perch so he can see.

Another day is done and all is well.
In heaven here on earth the Father reigns.
This time at dusk feels like His gift to me;
It always comforts me and peace remains.

Maria Crenshaw



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Author notes: This is done in iambic pentameter
If you need to contact me email me at [email protected]

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