Day becomes night with a gentle exhale that
Trembles green sails hoisted high on slender masts
Of ivory heartwood encapsulated within elemental bark
Verdant, billowing napkins held aloft by toothpicks
That dab away at the melting crumbs of dusk.

Moths awaken, flutter velvet wings in mossy crevices
Then alight like evening angels upon the chilling air.
Soft, firm wings beat and plough the air into moonlit furrows.
For last vestiges of the day pass and cling to the distance
With all the simplistic symbolism of light against dark.