Wisps of clouds bud orange, blue, white,
Here are soft layers that fly
They stretch below me, soft love below me in the sky,
Fading, misting, my window to the lights.
Twinkling tales of lives below the night,
A house, men’s work-a-day, everyday jobsite
A sole, tall steady one, standing tall and bright
It must be of great import, this one great light.
Fields upon fields spread dark like the night
Hiding who knows the kinds and forms of life
Trees perhaps, and creeks, may be scarcely out of sight
In a darkness not of evil, peaceful dark of night.
Ascend again, look to the sky above the night
Dark blue fades, day nears twilight,
Soon a star will twinkle in the night
Mother Goose rhyming her ode to stars so bright.
Yet on such a one, peaceful night
Love of Him whispering to the seeker’s sight
It is missed by some, the many who are blind,
This soft sweet love of a winter’s twilight.
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