I Come Out Here to Listen...

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