Mists envelope the dark roads
across the Ozarks ridge tonight,
where the moisture hangs heavy in the treetops.
We open the windows to the thick rain drenched air-
our cotton sheets feel damp
the scent of mists and clouds fill the room.
Sounds carry across the water on nights like this,
snatches of laughter and song,
distant galaxies beyond the cove.
lulled into slumber by the sounds of night
and the lullabies of rain
and small trilling frogs.
One by one,
the evening stars ignite,
torched by dusk’s retreat
The celestial lamplighter whistles,
sweet and low,
his lullabies to the evening stars
as he makes his way across the night’s sky.
Sweet and low,
he croons his twilight tune
as the stars hover,
Come, take my hand,
we will race the stars
to the ridgetop
and sing his lullabies
to the moon,
sweet and low.