Day cools into evening.
Its long tendrils wrap into shadow
as Day lets go its hold,
submissively.
Withdraws its heat--
Moon awaits her journey yet.
And in this in-between time,
this time I love best,
with its sense of sinking down
toward ground,
of gradual slowing,
I wrap up the remains of my day
and turn on my favorite reading light,
pull open my notebook
and let pencil fly as it must--
until soul has returned to body
and the moon rises.