Poem:

The setting sun marks the near-end of day;

The sky is clear, the birds are silenced;

The sight of distant hills, myopically dimming;

The twilight signaling an imminent darkness;

Crickets start chirping, seemingly delighted,

Eager to welcome the waiting night;

Stars above winking and blinking;

Leaves rustling in the delectable breeze;

Soon, a nocturnal solitude reigns supreme;

A subtle composure surrounds my presence;

Time seems to be of no consequence,

As if patiently standing still,

Until the soft, silent call of slumber

Begins interrupting my spirited communion.