Mourning the Night

Try as I may to coax the night hour to stay, I awaken each morning to the dawn of a new day. It's misconceived the sun's rising is something to admire, But what I see in the sky is chaos, beginning at the horizon and climbing higher. It steals from us the light of stars; sends us spinning through time and space. Whereas, when the moon inherits in the sky, it subtly falls into place. More simply, there is peace found easily in the summer night’s breeze, as it passes wistfully through the trees, gently rustling their leaves. Furthermore, the lack of disturbances is something to enjoy. No one's rushing to finish tasks for which the daylight is better employed. Yet, as surely as I write beneath the blanket of this night, I will arise tomorrow to find another dreadful morning's light.