Suddenly

I'm no vampire: I love the sunny days.

But the twilights, this summer, have been something:
The sudden stillness of the air, the breeze disappearing as if someone switched off a fan;
The deep quiet underneath the locusts' screaming;
The puddle of amber and orange behind the neighbors' houses;
The first brave star that's really Venus, shining in an deepening aquamarine sky.
And often: only me, sometimes us, to watch it happen, then fade.