The Song They Sing

In darkest night
When you stop by,
The sun comes out
To light the sky.

The trees cry out
In happy bliss,
And creatures come
To see this miss.

The flowers bloom,
The birds they sing,
And all to please
This sweet young thing.

A flute is heard,
The music low.
All ears turn up
To catch the glow.

The music rings
So soft and true.
All those who hear
Know what to do.

They join the song
And sing it true.
The song they sing
Is sung of you.

©Joel Lucsy