A little melancholy, but I hope something that brings peace as well.

A silver fall of ash drifts on a golden breeze
While the frosty winter wind carries autumn leaves.
A quiet soul disturbed by the changing of the tides
Looks out to where the light quietly subsides.

No fairies yet emerge in the dying of the day
No hope yet is sparked, nor yet is borne away.
No bird yet tunes its song to the fading of the light;
The stillness softly creeps as the day turns into night.

There cares are worn and thin, but heavy all the same
And in the growing dim they lay quiet yet and tame.
Though night may rouse their claws and sharpen up their fangs
The twilight draws them on leaving only pangs.

And so the soul may rest, between both night and day
And leave daytime cares behind and keep dark cares at bay.
And slow the moment passes, as slow as sunset shrinks
And still the wind moves in the grasses as the world pauses yet to think.

Though all the weary load, will be shouldered with the night
The moment eases burden and grants a brief respite.
Bask in the twilight and leave behind the day.
Soon enough the sorrows will move along their way.

Between Burdens copyright © Heather Strickler 2025 all rights reserved