Solace
It is certainly the mystical hour of the day
Before the sun descends, with
Birdsong among pine trees,
It is certainly this hour above others
Mutes the action, the passions of the day,
Holds in suspension the terrors of life.
This June hour of splendor and quietude,
Before the inevitable darkness
Covers all in sleep and nothingness,
It is the hour of enchantment
I celebrate, late sun through pine trees,
The river rippling quietly below,
Solitude in the atmosphere,
Quiet, immemorial calm,
The blessing that is not a total blessing,
Solace to the enigmatic sufferings of man.
~ Richard Eberhart