Wander, gently, into the grey of twilight,
the quiet half-light between day and dark,
where pine boughs murmur of the coming night,
and swaying, the silent shadows mark
that rest draweth nigh.
Drink in the fading of creation’s glow,
subdued by the shadow of the Almighty’s hand;
let the cares that cling to your shoulders go,
For the freeing weight of this holy land
whispers, “all is well.”
Thoughts from a Stumbling Saint 
Oh my word, this is beautiful! Wow.
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Aww… thanks, Faith. I’m so happy you liked it ❤
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This poem feels like an embodiment of twilight – I love it!
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That description *melts*
Thank you so much, Edna – your comment made my heart so happy ❤
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