Hooded monks with vesper views,
Marking time on evening pews,
Meditating on Good News,
Footsteps padding light.
Cloaks and Cloth at sunset hour,
Kneeling in monastic tower,
Soaking rays of heaven’s power,
Bidding God goodnight.
This gorgeous flower is ‘Aconitum‘, commonly called ‘Monkshood’…
Trumpet of gold, goblet of brass,
Calling to angels on seas of glass,
Vibrating melodies while hymns pass
Over your golden throat.
Instrument bold in court on high,
Summoning worshippers in the sky,
Heavenly choir, sweet by and by,
Warbling your golden note.
Trees put on their nightgowns and nod their heads in rest;
Sleepy river slows its pace, in tranquil stillness dressed.
Sky relinquishes its light, and dons a sober air;
Clouds are wrapped in bedclothes, adopting night-time stare.
Shadows stir and start their prowl as traffic lights cast glows;
Twinkling lampposts stretch and yawn and grab their party clothes.
Moon awakes, and with a grin, takes his night-owl perch;
A role-reversal supervised by watchful eye of Church.