The long crooked fingers of shadows crawl across the grass
Grabbing at anything within reach
Trying to make the world succumb to grays, black, darkness, and gloom.
The strong silver hands of the moon reach down and shoo those greedy fingers away
Like an unwanted dog in its yard.
Pulling the world back into perspective
Drowning broad trees and tufted grasses in an eerily beautiful silver glow
Gleaming off every branch
Painting the walls of the scenery different shades of blue.
The crowds of stars come out to watch the nighttime symphony conducted by the crescent in the sky.
The crickets play the opening piece
Filling the night with the sounds of a thousand violins
The bullfrogs decide that their deep baritone voices shouldn't go to waste as they serenade us in our dreams.
Of course the dog, not to be outdone, decides to speak up
To sing a solo meant solely for the moon
A piece to recognize the conductor and all he is.
So the hound lifts his head
And opens his mouth
Letting loose a jumble of notes and emotions
Coming forth in a sorrowful mix
Joined by the clattering buzz of the cicadas on percussion
Their tunes melting together as they crescendo to fill the air.
And the songs go on
Continuing early into the morning until the sun has to come and closes the party down
Telling everyone that it's time to call it quits
But not to worry, tonight they'll do it over again.