Evening

The sun, a sheer glowing ball,
Falls in a rush of mahogany light
Smokey and palpable
Through the evening night
The air is dense and downy soft
The moon a thin reed flute
Whose solitary tune hearkens to the
Wavering, ethereal keening
Of wind among the creaking pines
The bone-white moon shines eerily
And the air is filled with
The faraway melody of bells
The taste of jasmine blossoms
Settles, glimmering imperceptibly
Over everything