Coming Home

Coming Home

Twilight falls like rich honey.

Flowing, softly enveloping the land

Shadows receed and darkess softens

Edges merge and melt

As the world becomes a softer place.

Lights wink on along the lane

Children trudge up the endless hill

Tired from swimming and running

Endless hours of summer freedom

On sun soaked sand and warm rock.

Noise carries on night air.

The busy song of nesting birds

And buzzing insects on hedge row

Add to the sympony of summer evening sound

Sings us home to dream of tomorrow

Dave Kavanagh June 2015

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