Beautiful, the Night

She captures my lingering gaze when rising in epoch sight to sit upon her regal throne... comes the bewitching night Never appearing before my eyes as less than perfection Each hour's passing, heightens the aura of her complexion I do not fear her shadowed darkness as she hovers e'er long In her honor, I compose poems, lyrical words as in a song "She begins blooming at twilight, like sweet jasmine on a hill Soothing my spiritual soul with warmth when the air is chill She welcomes the nightingale's song, and the cry of a loon Reveling in the golden light of Autumn's full harvest moon Crickets chirp and fireflies glow the moment she appears She's a black backdrop to showcase fireworks at New Years To lovers, her beauty sparks the opportunity for romance Tender kisses and sensual touches are all part of the dance Some talk of a 'bewitching hour,' but the hands of a clock do not govern the night until there's the crowing of a cock Moonlight exposes nightfall, on a pitch canvas it will paint with brushstrokes of starlight on an ebon sky until the faint light of dawn awakens the sun, "Rise and dry morning dew. The night's reign is over and patiently she waits for you."