Before the night leaves the dark, and the day arrives with the light ... which can be the other way around when eventide arrives as Ole Sol surrenders its daytime lease, subletting to the dreadful night, replacing one another stealthfully at pre-designed times and places where everything becomes less clear in either Twilight Zones.
Within the advent of these brief vaporous minutes, shadows writhe through the trees and in-between structures, penetrating every nook and cranny, like the fingers of death did, metaphorically written, when Herod sought the death of all newborn males.
A frightening screech might shatter the air as an owl takes flight to claim a victim, adding to the clamor by screaming with a last gasp, again reminding me of the yelps Eygptian mothers likely yelled as their heir apparent was devoured.
In addition, silky dew exposes spun webs in the grass-bearing predaceous arachnids anxious to be fed what remains of the dead wrapped individually in their sarcophaguses.
Then, as surreptitiously as either arrives, twilight and twi-night silently dissipate like smoke from a burning pyre to await another encore performance.