Clouds float, birds fly away
A family of rodents rush home
The airs dry, so ends the day
But the night was just starting
The wind quietly blow about
Trees welcome the disturbance
Heavens Providence, fine sun set
Happy times, sweet melodies
The dark parts of the firmament
Reminds of the travelling sun
Going, moving to where she sets
The grey lines, silver, punctual
We stand wondering where it sleeps
Why the breeze came without
Why strangely, we miss the sun’s help
But then that only is known to God
Discover more from Oke’s Musings: Poetry, People and Places
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
