The birds after a weary trek return to their abode,
They give their babies delicacies that they managed to hoard.
Cool wind fans your face and crickets begin their chant
Weary people trudge back home as frogs begin to rant.
Shadows fall and then lengthen merging with the black,
A divine scene is what it is painted blue and lilac.
The surreal air that surrounds dusk is magical as is ethereal
The sky is balmy, the atmosphere alluring and the air soughts to heal.
Degree by degree, minute by minute, this fantasy turns to night,
One by one the lights go on and every window is bright.
But the better part of the hour was set in unmarred beauty,
which is indeed more poignant than any fun or gaiety.
For beauty so silent, speaks, requiring no music thereof
It materializes for a second before it demurely goes off.