Through the field and down the lane,
Sit and drink beside the water,
The sun dwindles in the sky,
Twilight holds the ebb and flow of our conversation,
We laugh, we prod the wounds of grief and debate the merrits of our unbelief.
Talk of what we know, seaking glimpses of the shrouded truth,
The light has gone, we return, up the lane and through the field.
Listening to - The White Light of Morning - SYML