The dregs of day are drifting
              The lowering light of sunset
          tinged with orange as soft as satin,
            their tails frayed and faltering

            Cicadas sing in the lost places
       where light does not plump nor intrude
                  Lazy frogs do not jump
             unless an interloper spirals by

              This is the lingering peace of night
                   where creatures, noir, frolic
                Children hush in sleepy lumps
              and mothers sigh with weariness

              Swamps and ponds begin to hum
          with the life brought about by darkness
       Eyes of a king gator blink like traffic lights
                 Susserations of snakes sing

             Only the hour before sunrise is silent
                 One world seeping into silence
             the other, with lazy lids awakening
                   to a sun that shouts in glory