Battle royal

Mocking the silver moon’s domain,
Fingers of sunshine blaze along bare tree limbs.
The waning light yearns to linger,
Clinging fiercely to earth any way it can.

Day defies night’s dominion,
Casting its own crimson radiance.
A gaudy rival to pearlescent white.
Jealous of Luna’s power of persuasion.

Shadows lengthen, sunlight fades.
A final flash of brilliance dances across the horizon,
The battle merely a moonlit illusion.
Nighttime always win.