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.
Listen, God is singing through the Elms, first as thunder, then as wind, then as trembling leaves and limb.
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.
💗 I’ll make a copy of this and frame it! 💗
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