The Hours of Day The hours of the day unfold, as crickets sing their dusk, every shadow beckoning home, every breeze a comforting kiss— as an owl whispers deep, revealing dreams anew.
Night stands still, a blanket curling tight, as fireflies dance, mapping through the dark; every star, a memory, and the earth, welcoming dreams, inviting us in.
— Gary Snyder
- Gary Snyder