Perhaps

Perhaps these crickets serenade the day, coaxing it from crevices in the horizon, awakening the long slumbering dawn.

Perhaps the owl doesn't love the night but rather each flap of great wing stirs morning's breath into wakening.

Perhaps the stars give morning something to grasp onto, the moon like the light in the hall, a soft glow to guide.

Perhaps the air cools in anticipation of dancing with the bright wind.

Perhaps the raccoon clears waste off the surface of the earth so the sun can illuminate clean soil and dew drops.

Perhaps night is not the opposite of day but rather a preparing, a coaxing and holding, reminding and encouraging.