Twilight Ritual

I long for the wine of assurance

Feeling the doubtings of men;

My ship returns to its home port

To a scene of my childhood again:

Aspens sing for the river's

Lyrics that never grow old.

Stars pin back the curtains of twilight

On the sky with a broach of pale gold.

The breezes are quietly strumming

Tree harps, while a killdeer's far cry

Tunes the heart to the peace of contentment,

To the cricket's lullaby.

Father calls all the family together

To kneel round the hearthstone in prayer.

The harps of the aspens cease strumming

As he talks to God listening there.