The mountains hush beneath
gold-touched skies,
as the last light folds over rooftops
and the town exhales its quiet breath.

Shadows lean long across cobbled streets,
children's laughter fading
into the warm hush of evening.

The old stone church keep its silence,
watching as birds circle once,
then vanish into the firs.

Somewhere, a door creaks open-
the smell of bread,
the sound of home.

In Głuchołazy,
sunset is not an ending,
but a soft promise
that peace still lives here,
tucked between the trees and time.