The lights in the trees hang higher now
Soft thrills glow warmly within
A song of the night approaching slow,
Cosmic footsteps unsure of what lies ahead
Beyond the howls carried on distant winds
Calls for help unheeded, unheard—
War cries of the last man standing.
But here, beneath these trees, the lights in the branches,
All is a dream, already fading.
Glass bulbs glow with mere whispers of incandescence
Disappearing into the dark forest
The source left behind, swaying in the breeze.

Image by Yuri_B from Pixabay