The moon rises from the soup on far horizon. Dim slightly lit orb easing out of the haze. Lighting the eve, casting shadows in the air of frost. Birds scurry looking for their roosts. Ever higher it climbs skyward. Silvery moon, romantics dream dancing with the star of eve. Higher it climbs, lighting the way for travelers of the eve. A moment passes never to be caught again. Faded to memory are the images of the eve.
Gently golden glow eases to the mountain. Settling behind peaks. Fading to the evening, leaving the silvery glow to light the way. For the moon to reveal, old man sun must recline to the night.