What happens when the sun goes down
when satin takes the light?
When little hands of darkness grasp
to bring the chill and night?

What happens when the air gets cool
with other-worldly airs
and greedy gremlins in the dark
surprise you unawares?

They say it’s always at the Twelk:
the time when dark holds sway
when even narcoleptics sleep
and night blends with the fey.

Tis, then the sky, alive in song
from nymphs and gnomes and Twen
twinkles dots of liquid dreams
that leap and live again.

A thousand burning liquid balls
so small to us below
blaze in bright and yellow-white
and green, or pumpkin glow

And sometimes when the air is taught
with songs of fairy dew
the gleaming spheres of yesteryears
fall to the earth anew.

Celestial fire! Flashing darts
a shower of sparkled gleam
a swish of hope, a slash of silk
a bright and shining dream

For just a minute–never more–
the sky is wide asleep
with bobbled purple, swaddled blue
and crimson, dark and deep.

And just like that the shower ends
and curtained night regains.
The dreams depart, the stars return
and normal nightness reigns.

Watch some silent, autumn night
and you might see them, fair.
but come to seek and not to keep
for dreams take flight with air.

Photo by Vincentiu Solomon on Unsplash