A walk amidst the burg tonight
has left a resonant echoed peace
where summer’s hold enjoys the grasp
of July in sweet release.
A distant thunder calls a storm
to pause at foothill’s knee,
defending dusk’s cool silence
and holding calm in every tree.
Avian life so perched in rest
does kindly call a day’s end tune,
begs the children home to nest
with arias sung to bring them soon.
A hush denies the silence,
stilled to only quaking leaves
which stir by some unnoticed breath
that comes in quiet sighs and heaves.
Porch by porch the dusk finds light
as neighbors settle in,
drawing down this fleeting dusk
enough to know this day’s at end.
A distant barking dog,
the laughter of two passersby,
a blue-jay’s call, a robin’s song,
thereby this evening’s peace decried.
Between the trees in shadows
a rush of swallows play fast toward home,
from tree to tree they call and sing,
sweep this fleeting light alone.
Every moment holds its own,
a shadowed thrum of life,
called in subtle mastery
in a peace denied of living’s strife.
Here this peace is brought to me,
from distant storm and play above,
that I through blessings counted
know the truth of God’s sweet love.