Nightfall

Twilight. The sky turns from a deep orange glow on the far horizon in gradations of indigo and violet to the purple-grey umbra of the earth's shadow in the upper atmosphere. Loose strings of birds make the trip back to their roosts, while a small flock of night herons rises silently on snow-white wings from their daytime perch on the ancient milkwoods at the shore and pass their daytime cousins as they head for the feeding ground beyond the lighthouse.
The sissing of the waves wafts in on the evening drift of cool air as the change from day to night reverses the offshore breeze, with an occasional sharp crack as a perfect break traps the air and explodes in a splatter of spume. Night birds call from the rocks, an eerie, echoing song.
It's dark now. The pink glow has faded. One by one the stars twinkle into being - Sirius, the brightest star, followed by the familiar outline of Orion the Hunter, with Rigel and Betelgeuse appearing first, to the south, Canopus - and soon too many to count - ever-constant guides for travellers since time immemorial.
Night settles. All is quiet as the daytime creatures take to their burrows, nests and cosy corners. Humans retreat into their houses. Lights go out. The night belongs to the nocturnal.
My cats head out of the door.