Evening

Evening creeps closer by
on slippered feet,
her darkness swallowing the light
and painting the sky a blushing red

As if by appointment,
the frogs in the pond
begin enthusiastically
their evening concert

The busy mosquitoes
take time to gossip.
Complaining, complaining
stopping only to sip red wine!
I slap and stamp into their conversation.

Softly the sweet scent of Jasmine
and day-shy lilies
beg my attention.
just too much, too sweetly.

Night is here,
and one million stars
take my imagination
lightly by the hand;
past the present
to witness the birth
Of time.

There in the alone-ness
I enjoy
the essential being of the night.