Eventide.

She stares up into the sky
Twilight has always been her favorite
A canopy of hues from another world
Impossible to describe in words
Something pulsating
The color of a fading blossom
Yes, there are dark clouds
Scattered and broken
And the silhouettes
Of ghostly trees
But a scintillating resurrection
Bursts on the horizon
Tracing the outline
Of a pool of visible echoes
Which blurs undefined into darkness
And there
Squinting
She begins to see stars.