open window evenings

These are open window evenings.
Leaning against the screen,
watching the dusk happenings.
Flowers quiver in a gentle breeze that
flows softly through the screen,
bursting with color
though the twilight soon swallows it,
because night's on its way.

Birds chirp, their music
bringing calm
the only soundtrack I want to listen to now
the only song that fits this moment:
an open window evening
watching the dusky scene:
night's on its way.

Far above, the sky
unimaginable colors
who knew orange could fade
into blue like that?
Except it's not just blue,
it's that dusky specialty:
robin's-egg, turquoise, and white-gray blended together
in a way only the sky can show
when night's on its way.

Nature is close,
but far, too,
because I am only in my dining room,
window wide open, but screen keeping me in
and when I leave my spot to write,
the window's closed,
the lights on,
because I am not a flower, nor a bird, nor the sky
I am only a child
and night's on its way.