The Night

When the world takes on its quiet grace, Under the moon’s soft whispering lace, The stars align, a gentle quilt, Across the hills where dreams are built.

Beneath the vast, unyielding dome, In these woods, I find my home. With every creature, whisper, sigh, Underneath the night’s vast sky.

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Let silence reign ‘til light shall break, In the rustle of the leaves and the stillness awake.

• Henry David Thoreau