The Coming of Evening and Light

The soft purr of evening is coming now,
across the mountain it weaves its light
and pulls the curtain slowly,
slowly down the tops of trees
still lit with fire, you can see the breeze take hold
of one last stem and then
lost in dim it is sucked in.

A canopy of clouds, lit now by another fire
from streets where people play electric lights
and dance on curbs where rain once poured a river
until the sky was dry;
slowly now the music drifts from open doors
and the white milky sky comes down and touches ground
while the city melts into 10 o'clock,
a laugh sparks one street then two
where you and I and sky gather like old friends,
sleepy and glad to be home again.