Whispering voices of the countryside,
Murmur lowly when friends are listening.
I hear them when the sun has gone to hide,
Its last rays leaving bright clouds glistening.
Twilight pauses, anticipating night,
The land draws a breath of the evening air;
Sunset chimes echo with crystalline light,
Golden and crimson sing everywhere.
The rush of shadows that follow their song,
Softly surrounds the brief silence of dusk.
Rustling leaves move the anthem along;
A descant for daylight shedding its husk.
A crystal canticle, to purify
The end of the day with a lullaby.
Mick McKellar
May 2015
The day begins with a golden chorus, it ends with a crystalline lullaby.
Mick
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