Under the hush of evening, fallen,
There is a garden, lush and dark with sleepy trees,
Birds final calling to one another
Their muttered prayers, vespers to the love that holds them dear.
Under The Hush
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Listen, God is singing through the Elms, first as thunder, then as wind, then as trembling leaves and limb.
💗 I’ll make a copy of this and frame it! 💗
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