As the Sun begins to set
Darkness creeps in, and yet
There remains a magical feeling
About which at present nature is dealing
The blue Sky gradually disappearing
As the night is patiently gearing
To bring in the black dark night
And surround us all until daylight
The white puffball clouds now disintegrate
Before our eyes the dark will infiltrate
Our minds our souls for a brief while
As in, the field, disappears the Stile
Covered now beneath the shroud
Of night now coming in calling out loud
In the foreground proudly standing still
The bushes whispering in the gentle winds chill
They will still be there tomorrow morn
Are they bushes or ears of corn?
Hard to tell in the sad dim light
As nature settles down for the night
Eventually when all the blue Sky has gone
The sound of night Owls will linger on
A silent solitude will reign
Until morning comes again