the day is dying now

somewhere
the day is dying now
the sky shudders pink proof
of the Sun's repose
reverent birds hush
abandon their rustling
find their temporary perches
crickets chalk organic violins
throaty frogs perfect choral pitch
all the while blue violet
is pressing its way
in at the edges
evenly
evening
the silent herald
rolling closed
the black curtain
that sets the stage for
the Moon's appearance
Her love song
of lamentation
of reflection
of longing
and all the bedraggled Lovers
those holy insomniacs
wait with Her
laying sprawled out
in damp grasses
with upturned faces
breathy
open-lipped
glossy-eyed