The sun dims out its final light,
a slow surrender to the night.
A quiet settles, deep and thick,
where all bright colors of the day sleep.
In the house, gold squares bloom,
for a little while,
cutting the brief deep blue of the evening’s gloom.
My headlights trace the pavement home,
a narrow world I’m left to roam.
This is the price of the afternoon,
which pays for the rising of the moon.
This is the quiet debt that the sun
must pay to the deep and darkening gray.
(By Isa Rashid ’27)