Evening

The calm of the day's surrender to the night brings countenance

to the trials of the hours before.

She will be here soon, to ink the sky with her own new shade of purple

and blot out the day's distortions.

The moon stands sentry to her arrival.

Stars hurriedly take their place,
Each hoping she will chose them to light her path.

In the distance she arrives.

The remnants of light see the futility of their struggle.

In one elegant sweep, she envelops the sky.

Slowly, she nurses the weary hours with hope.

For daylight will not relinquish claim to them for very long.