The room is soft, the air is deep,
I look around and the kids are sleeping.
Each breath a tiny, steady sound,
The day's loud motions are unbound.
And from the pane, a silver slice, 🌕
The moon arrives to pay its price—
A pale, slow wash across the floor,
A silent promise at the door.
It settles on the covers bright,
A blessing of the watchful night.
Outside, the air is crisp and clean,
The scent of dry leaves lies unseen.
It feels homey, safe and true,
And all the world is resting too.
The light of ages, old and far,
Guards this small harbor where they are,
While Autumn holds the quiet ground
In soft, protective peace profound.
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