Tenderly, the night descends.
Twilight’s luster still limns the western trees,
On this long blue evening approaching solstice.
Bitter blows an arctic wind, so we huddle:
Close to hearth, close to home, close to each other.
Dimming down towards dream time,
Stars sparkle clear in the cracking cold,
And the moon rises high in silver splendor.
Come, night, and hold us.
We stand the long watches until sun’s return.