sweet and low

sunset

One by one,
the evening stars ignite,
torched by dusk’s retreat
into twilight.

The celestial lamplighter whistles,
sweet and low,
his lullabies to the evening stars
as he makes his way across the night’s sky.

Sweet and low,
he croons his twilight tune
as the stars hover,
ever closer,
to listen.

Come, take my hand,
we will race the stars
to the ridgetop
and sing his lullabies
to the moon,
sweet and low.