When finally the strident shrills of day
Are enveloped by an open silence,
The orchestration begins.

The dancers, with flowing silken petals
Of a deep garnet,
Sway to the moon’s lament.

The glowing stars that look down,
Down upon the clearing,
Are the audience cushioned in a deep satin expanse.

Silver spirits take up their bows,
Their elegiac melody permeates the breeze,
As though it is of a time once known.

The trees cast dark shadows upon
A downy forest floor,
Their wooden batons conduct night’s nocturne.

The notes resound,
And create a place to look to a reflection,
Found in the air itself.

Sleep in this serenity is accompanied
By the smooth dancers,
By the gentle adagio vibrating from the wood.