The Night's White Rider

The Night’s White Rider appears in the west,
gently setting the sun and blanketing the sky,
pulling the cool blanket of darkness across it from the east.
The trees reach up to this White Rider,
hoping for a single touch of the majestic and great,
with fingers out like peasants to an emperor on a high throne.
The river below sings to the White Rider sweet graces,
that hush the land surrounding to a peaceful whisper,
with a silent reminder that sleep shall come soon.
As I stand there in awe of such a beautiful sight,
the clock calls out,
“Sweet dreams, it’s time for goodnight.”