A NIGHTINGALE AT SUNSET

The crimson sun sank slowly behind a darkening cloud,
The temple grounds were at peace, there were no loud
Noises to disturb, the temple was bathed in the sun’s light,
Changing it’s colour to a delicate pink from pure white.

There, on the branch of a tree near the temple door,
Sitting silhouetted in the dying rays of the sun, I saw
A nightingale perched, would he open his heart and sing
A song of love to God? And great joy to many bring.

The sound wafted across the holy grounds like an evening hymn,
Springing from our feathered friend, as if he really knew Him,
And wanted to sing his very best to praise his Maker, God and King,
It appeared that we were carried to heaven on ethereal wings.

It seemed at that moment that the angels sang as well,
A sound only found in heaven came on earth to dwell,
For just a few sacred moments to tell of God’s great love,
Then, as the song slowly faded, I saw a mourning dove.

M Ann Margetson © October 27, 2000

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