A strew of stars undimmed by moonlight now begins to thin as shades of blue less deep invade the east. Constellations, point by point erased, hang incomplete, then vanish. The ancient details of the sky give way to those more transient details of the earth. Needle and bud and petal emerge, blade and twig are revealed, and all is as it was. In the pale light I wait for the first songbird to add its voice to the hum of breeze-shivered pine, then take the memory of stars to bed.