The time when clouds sail across the embers of an orange sky, just dying down
The time when trees frame the sky, silhouetted branches reaching and grasping.
Shades of violet and blue spilling over each other like a painted scene.
The time when chimneys, in the gloom, puff their last breath.
A time where night and day converse, lazily and soft spoken.
Whispering to each other and giggling.
The brightest of stars seemingly emerging from the clouds.

A time for wonder and dreams.