Birds make way
back to their nests,
buzzing of crickets
get louder gradually,
the reluctant moves
of the leaves,
unwilling, but slaves
to the breeze,
Dabbed in orange,
the western horizon
surrenders, slowly
but completely
to the mighty
kingdom of night,
Insubordinate, however,
to the rules of dark,
remain the silver Moon
and the congregation of Stars.