Something more gentle than most have been of late.

Softly falls the darkness, tucking in the day.
Evening sings a lullaby and softly drifts away.
The restful moon still watches over house and home,
And even subtle starlight refuses to roam.

The windows are all shuttered in the lantern light,
And gentle voices sing in the falling of the night.
Homes have banked their fires and settled in to sleep,
and simple desires drift into slumber deep.

The fox and owl are meeting beneath the watching moon,
And the wind is gently fleeting—a soft and fading boon.
The darkness comes to listen at every quiet door,
And wraps each house in silence, then drifts on once more.

The sun will bring the morning and another day
An the hopeful world aborning will travel on its way.
But weary souls take refuge an on their perch alite.
And find rest from their labor in the falling of the night.

Falling of Night copyright © Heather Strickler 2026 all rights reserved.