Tom Zart

TWILIGHT

Twilight skies turn orange, pink and gray
As the stars watch the dying day.
The winds of night now stir the breeze
While most birds roost the in trees.

The fireflies glide above the grass
As bullfrogs sing to torment bass.
Soon the moon will circle high
Beneath its cape of star-filled sky.

The twilight is first evening’s bell
A time of peace when all is well.
Another day has come and gone
Not to return until the dawn.