I sit on the hillside overlooking the valley's tiny flickering houses 

All is silent as the day closes like a thin book, small and quiet 

A soft summer zephyr carresses the mighty oaks 

I behold the western sky, one small segment of spectrum in the endless night 

The bright colors of gold, fiery orange, and a passion of scarlet flood the firmament

It is said that angels paint the sunset sky

And as I recline on this reflective hillside

I can believe it with my entire heart