The Falling Night

The branches and their leaves, the hillside that sits behind our house, and telephone poles have turned into black construction paper cutouts against a faded blue-gray sky. White glittering pinpoints twinkle from white to brighter white. In the dusky blue above, some stars twinkle from white to green to red and become airplanes making their slow motion meteoric fall toward the quiet ground. Everything is black or grey, save the tan bamboo growing along the still whitish fence that guards our grassy heaven and home. Everything has lost it’s hue and only shades of muted blacks and whites and sky grays remain. Those colorful crickets though… they are singing to the night in a purple, pink, and orange melody.

Fall upon me, Night.

Dawn upon me, Light.