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At he entrance of evening,
The melting sun slowly dips
Behind the tree tops---reflecting
The horizon---beckoning the moon
To peak through the opaque shades
As lazy winds play tag with the heated night.
The staccato symphony of horny crickets
Pervade the scene---
Piercing the stoical still silence
With their magnetic melodic sounds.
Sleep---that stranger of the day---comes calling
And none can ignore making her acquaintance.
Unable to compete, I slip into oncoming dreams:
Not knowing if I shall greet tomorrow---here.
Yet, I’m consoled---knowing God willing
And the creek don’t rise on this side,
Maybe…just maybe, I’ll rise to fight another day!
So in the heat of this world’s night,
I chant all praises to Him---
Praying my childhood prayer:
Now I lay me down to sleep;
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.
