Poem By Maya Hanson
As the sun sets a dog barks off in the distance,
while the faint, shrill wail of a siren screams from far far away.
A voice can be heard calling, echoing from the hills below,
bouncing off the trees, the rocks,
then rolling, flowing up through the hollows,
the little valleys nestled beneath the fading light of dusk.
Calling, calling for the children to once again come in for the night.
Echoing, a resounding, reason to be...