The music finishes.
It is the quiet of night
Broken by the ticking of a clock,
the hiss of rain,
the growling of a distant car.
The silence of this interval
is not for doing,
not for resting
But to wonder in;
A vulnerable silence
given back to us.
Blessed are the men and women
who are planted on your earth,
in your garden,
who grow as your trees and flowers grow,
who transform their darkness to light.
Their roots plunge into darkness;
their faces turn toward the light.