That quiet hour
When all colors and detail
Melt into blurred shadowy forms
And the dying light
Takes on an amber glow
It is then that the first star peeks through a fading sky
Signaling the oncoming night
With its twinkling echo of crickets
And gentle, warm, summer breezes
Wafting the perfume of night jasmine, magnolia, and orange blossoms
Under the bluish light of a reflected silver sun