Friday evening comes again, the fading light br As summer falls towards the winter's arms br The birds adjust their song to Sabbath tones br From branches clothed in leaves just clinging on br To vestiges of life. You sit alone br With thoughts so nimble in their questioning br And dreams and longing looming large br But not yet smooth, the guards br Of all you wish your heart to realize. br br An irritating child, again, is tugging on your jeans br The bitter taste on tongue offsets the comfort of your chair, br An orphaned thought that plays on every page br Across the screens and headlines of the day br The voices that call harshly to the air: br 'What makes such evil beings out of men br Born into innocence and held in arms, but yet br Learning by day and in their secret nights br How hatred is perfected, intricate br As if all others of their kind were not the same br In bone and very DNA? ' Your child of thought br Fades with the light, as the weekend br And invitations to the family hearth approach, br Your ears caressed by birdsong, you fall soft br Into the arms of autumn and repose, br Believing tenderness can heal the heart.