NATURE / A POEM

Soft comes the hush of eventide

And songbirds hide
In limbs of budded trees
To bid farewell to setting sun
With lullabies they've sung
Each night for centuries.

A lark is winging swiftly home -

Black dot alone -
Beneath auroral clouds.
All nature makes a homeward rush

As twilight's rosy blush
The eyes of night arouse.

By Margaret Yacavace

Hair: Elle By Lillian
Photography: Edward Grant