At dusk, pointed shadows
of maple tree foliage
print hieroglyphics
upon the darkening landscape,
a discernable message
as the moon ascends
and swallows
small clumps of darkness
the sun leaves behind.
Lunar sand illuminates
the dimming tree line,
stars, in earnest, glimmer
to deepen the view
the empty vat of space provides.
A topless, black shroud
with a hostile view
would linger overhead
should these beacons extinguish
and allow the dark
to accentuate the hollow, lightless
silence that would be night.
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