A twilight of trees,
Give unto a silence golden,
which meets the special needs,
of the tender hearts spoken.
For they bequeath the dreams of scarlet lilies
Which bloom majestically upon a grassy hill,
Beholding to all their radiant, but silent glory,
which replenishes the sodden soul its fill.
For this twilight of trees has granted splendor,
And cast a shadow not on this heart so tender.
So I shall lie me down on this misty hill,
And sleep the faithful sleep of angels,
For I have seen His glory…felt His love, and have drank my fill.
J. Allen Wilson © 2004