In twilight depths, the moon is hanging still,
The indigo of the impending night is shocking.
The reeds are undulating in the overkill
Of one entire day of active rocking.

The crickets are about to begin
Another concert in the starless aura.
A cooling breeze is whooshing through the scene
To hug the reeds and brush the other flora.

The vapors of the dampness rise
And hit my nostrils with a pungent message.
The day has bid its somnolent goodbyes
And left its cryptic, otheworldly presage.