“End of Day,” Ensign, Feb. 1972, 27
End of day.
Now the sun coin has slipped away
Into the penny-slot of the world,
And all the ocean waves are curled
And scalloped where sand lies deep
On drowsy beaches. Small crabs sleep.
Now gulls hover over yellow feet,
And everywhere the soft winds greet
The timid stars that tiptoe into night.
Now wings are stilled that beat in sun-bright flight,
And gnarled trees crouch with gnome-backs turned to sea;
Now only peace is left for you and me.