In the Evening of December
When mourning doves gather in the evening of December
And the summer rains have turned to snow,
They coo a lullaby into the winter wind
That drifts over fields under a moonlit glow.
Towering trees bend in homage,
Spent grass and cattails weave with their song
When mourning doves gather in the evening of December
To welcome a saviour into their throng.
By
James N. Zitzelsberger
© 2021
