The Last Lantern

The last gold lantern swings and sways, Along the porch in fading rays. The crickets tune the evening air, While fireflies blink beside the stair. I curl beneath my quilt inside, And watch the shadows stretch and slide. The kettle hums; the house is still, A quiet hush rests on the hill. The moon climbs slowly, pale and round, As sleepy owls make one soft sound. I close my eyes; the night feels kind, And leave the busy day behind.