Twilight Concerto

Then the fireflies
tune their instruments
in the grainy hall of dusk.
Phosphorescent tings,
pings piercing twilight,
opus
to my ears of stone.

The orchestra flares
a shivering chorus
of emerald sparks,
maestros
slicing shadows
bleeding incandescence
into the ebony firmament,
the final toll
of day’s dwindling chord.

In their wilting notes,
I resurrect
and a symphony of jade is born,
immaculate
in this curtained auditorium of night.