The Beauty in Dusk

Ever so slowly the sun sinks in the sky. It hides behind a thin layer of clouds before dipping below the tree line.
No body notices the change until darkness sweeps over the stadium.
And as the last speech comes to an end, a lively festivity begins.
The clouds begin to glow with blue, yellow, and green.
A pink glow illuminates the bottom of the sky, barely visible through the thick cover of trees.
Climbing to the top of the stadium and looking up.
Lonely balloons float into the air only to stop.
They bob, neither going up or down, simply outwards.
Shrinking, shrinking, until they turn into small dots and hide in the sky itself.
Flashes of light illuminate the field as silhouettes gather to be lit up by there own devices.
The peaceful sound of nature is drowned out by the roar of hundreds of people talking all at once.
Trees slowly turn black and skies slowly turn dark blue.
The sounds of people lessen until it was none.
The only thing to hear was the roar of the wind whistling through discarded papers.
A lonely owl lets out a hoot to signal the end of dusk and the beginning of a long night.