The waning day conducts the night chorus
in the clicking of the chipping sparrow
in the electric pulse of cicadas
and rasping claws of gray squirrels
on flaking bark and cedar fences.

Robins tremolo puddles like dogs
and cut grass fumes with notes
of parsley and cracked pepper
as the starlings dig in for the night
shoulder to shoulder in the ash
raised like a baton for the next movement

When the lights dim and a nail
of the moon polished smooth
plucks a single string and strums
the minor chords of owls on frogs
and the nightswift's perfect fifth.