Slow Times

I like the slow times . . . When all the work is done, And evening shadows creep Across the fields; When somber trees Stand still and wait . . . For darkness to descend. I like the slow winds . . . That stir the waters With their playful hands, And send their ripples To bathe the tired feet Of giant firs, that stand . . . In watch along the shore. I like the slow trains . . . That climb the hills With plaintive, lonely wails; And send their echoes Searching through the night, For sleepy little towns . . . That lie along their paths. I like the slow days . . . When all the time is mine, And fantasies and dreams Come calling on my mind; And anxious thought Stand still and wait . . . To repossess my mind. I like the slow walks . . . When evening shadows fall, When times we spend alone Are silent hours Of listening to our hearts Whispering words of love . . . That only God can hear. I like the slow times . . . When you are by my side.