The Farm

When fall comes to the hills, And the evening fills the valley still, With the whispers of small things near, Stars wink and dance, clear. Like fireflies in the dusky light, Great and small blend into night, In the privacy of woods deep, Where shadows and secrets sleep. The sky turns red, like a sunset's sigh, Behind an eyelid, time drifting by. I search through autumns, leaves fallen down, For my grandfather’s path, now lost, now found. My path closes behind, under wings, That flew so briefly, fallen things. But in the twilight, I see him there, Watching a moment stretch in the evening air. Stars dance in the long grass, Dark things whisper and shadows pass. The sky turns red, like a sunset's sigh, Behind an eyelid, time drifting by. I search through autumns, leaves fallen down, For my grandfather’s path, now lost, now found. In the quiet of the woods, time stands still, I find his spirit, in the evening chill. As stars dance in the long grass, free, His presence, is here with me. I surrender to this evening’s embrace, Walk these paths, to find his face. In the dance of stars and the whispering leaves, His spirit is ever with me.