The sun throws its last golden rays

On the tall, green trees,

Making them come alive

In between the shadows

Falling on the grass below.

As twilight comes,

The birds are twittering,

And making way for the night

By wrapping themselves

In a cloak of darkness.

Streams slow down                

          

And murmur quietly,

As crickets and locusts

Play a sweet symphony.

In the quiet of the night,

I hear God’s voice say,

“All is well, all is well,

In your soul.”

YU/Stan/Kema