Nightfall can happen at noon.
Come too early,
come too soon.
Nightfall of the soul
always points to the moon.

Silvery soul
slips into dark,
no holy angels
around you to hark.
Death of the future
and fear of the past,
Jesus among us
can only outlast.

Hung on the sorrow
of today and tomorrow,
the soul turns its head
while feeling so dead.

Sunrise can happen
in the midst of despair.
Christ rays can sink
in your soul from nowhere.
Musical coda,
angels arising.
Gratitude sounding
in ways so surprising.

Nightfall can happen,
come early and soon.
But now you are healed
by a magical rune.
Obscure liberation
not bottled or sold
yet somehow it’s certain
your sorrow is gold.

Vicki Woodyard

Comments welcomed....