When shutters close, and nightowls call,
by Patricia Gross
from ancient branches, long and wide,
we sense the peace, that nightfall brings,
from dwellings, where we rest inside.
Our kindly host, unseen and dear,
projects his breath, so strong and whole.
It warms the chill, that nightfall lends
and melts the barriers, 'round the soul.
A yellow moon, bursts through the clouds,
and smiles at everything in sight.
Approving of the harmony,
so obvious, with the fall of night.
The winking stars, so small and still,
are circled near the heavenly throne.
Their bright glow, highlights angel forms,
who's songs are lead, by God, alone.
A gentle breeze, swirls' round the nests,
where tiny fledglings, softly doze.
Its draught excludes all turbulence,
as through the night, it gently blows.
Hungry felines, tread the earth,
and frolic 'neath the starry lights.
They pounce on field mice, all night long,
and satisfy their appetites.