Dusk is gone and the midnight hour beckons,
when the flowers sleep,

And night’s silken dew,
Dances across sleeping shallow

where the willow hangs her tired head,
and sleeps under twinkling’s of twilight dreaming.

When the nightingale
Serenades the moon cast meadows,

that place of evening’s repose.

When all is quiet
when all is dark
when all the earth rests
Replenishing,

Waiting for the rise of Sun
and greater possibility.