The sun’s ray darkens
as its golden orb sinks
behind the blue gums great and tall
leaving a quiet peace.
Light has gone.
The watchman’s vigil has begun
as he invades the silence undisturbed
but for the cricket’s incessant strains
and the flashing of the fireflies.
Night has come.
The moon rises, etching a silver lake line
magnifying the deep valley with its light.
Day’s end.
Thank you, Lord, for such is your love
the hope which your creation brings
the faith through which we show you forth
as present in all things.
By Sister Aengus Campion (1927 – 2018)
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