Noon Til' Night Poem by Derrick Andrews

The sun, drooping ever slowly behind cotton veils,
Thick strains of sulfur tinted tissues stain the noon sky,
Leaning severely to the left, a flower grasps the last of the star's rays,
Before the light sets off on its course.
Playing its toes timidly over the lucid pool that is night,
Then dawning its pale golden swimming suit and jumping in.
Only in the absence of all light will true darkness ever exist,
But not on this night, as the ashen sun shines meekly upon the forest.
An owl awakens and revolves its head,
Eyes much like that cryptic sickle in the sky,
Hunting the bush covered, sooty colored carpet of the night
For potential appetizers.
Hooting ever so mellifluously,
That musical notes seem to appear in the navy blue sky,
That endless slate of sheet music, pleading to have its twinkling notes read,
No, cantillated up into the heavens,
To be applauded through light and the ever punctual rooster,
Whose 'encores' awaken us every morning.