I come out here to listen
To the sky-line lullaby
To hear its vesper glisten
On the deep end of good-by
The Maestro of this orchestra
The Hand that tunes its choir
Composes twilight’s masterpiece
In chords of holy fire
Above this troubled clod of dirt
With all its torn devotion
He calms our visages of hurt
With heaven’s flaming ocean
I come out here to listen
To love’s soulful solitude
As it melts upon the evening
In a tender-whelming flood
The bumps and scrapes of living
Are predictable and plain
But the overtures of heaven
Who can imitate its strain?
I come out here to listen
To His hallowed vespers swell
As I hear Him softly whisper,
It is well, it is well
© Janet Martin
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Thank-you for stopping by my porch! I hope you were blessed!