Night Call

The sun slips over the horizon.
Dusk falls.
The sky is black when the stars come out to play.

And the night children are born.

Their steps so light,
Their laugh so soft.
It's their time.

The children roam from street to street.
Never tiring.
In the distance, flutes seem to play.
A quiet rush of wind comes.

It tickles the grass.
And the children roam on.

Until the first glimmer of light on morning dew.
Strewn by the children's hands.
Then, the children vanish.

Waiting for night to call again.