A Midsummer Sonnet

Midsummer’s day departs unevenly.
It's final rays to desert mountains cleave.
The ling'ring light reflects from crag and lee,
Until from highest peak it's forced to leave.

On high, the clouds transmute to glowing gold.
Beyond, the sky's awash with vibrant red.
But by and by warm hues decay to cold;
All color from the dark'ning vault is bled.

The heavens--blue and dark, approaching black--
Yield to the moon and newborn astral light.
Each star revolves on its appointed track
And ushers in the year's most short-lived night.

Astraeus bids his wand'ring children fly
Til rosy Dawn again assumes the sky.