The magic hour,
the re-birth of God’s sun
on the silent redgold-emblazoned horizon,
spilling wild gold light in immeasurable delight
on leaf and branch
and slender blades of dew-kissed forest grass,
your hand in mine,
and the dawn chorus
bringing Heaven’s
sacred hymns of joy
to this forest garden
as the day seeps in.
(17 September 2011)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem