Sometimes the sky is eloquent
When it says goodnight,
And the Day steals away
On trails of amber light.
The clouds break forth from their silence
In the pinkest and purplest of tones,
And thoughts of good things come to life
In golden homophones.
Words surge to the farthest horizon,
And echo from mountains to trees—
They ring in the highest of heavens,
They float on the meandering breeze.
But then at the height of expression,
The voice of the sky drifts away.
The starry, black blanket unfolds,
And muffles the snoring of Day.
Softer than whispers–
The sky’s goodnight,
But to those who listen—
The joys of delight.