Night falls. Rustling trees whisper her arrival. Stealthily, she creeps over the earth, Flinging her cloak of darkness over the Sky. Punching star-holes in a tent of black, Polishing the moon to a silver shine, Until the sun's glowing rays Prod her on.

of 5 stories this month > Get unlimited stories
You've read 5 of 5 free stories

Only $1 for your first month.

Get unlimited Monitor journalism.