Thursday

At the End of the Day


Birds flit branch to branch to find their nighttime perch.
Calling and tweeting they call out the alarm,
Hurry, sundown approaches.

The winds die down and the water calms.
Mirror still the pond reflects the failing light.
Hurry, sundown approaches.

Night birds call, beast of the dark ready for the prowl
And the world hunkers down.
to wait.
For the Son
Come, Lord Jesus

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