Random Short Story: Under the Gaze of the Moon

Short descriptive passage about a forest at midnight. Please give me feedback!
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Rising Moon
As twilight falls, the forest slows. Grass whispers in the glade, whilst trees rustle in the wind. The old trees, with aging branches, almost like gnarled hands, raise their limbs to the skies, perhaps, in the gaze of a fanciful onlooker, praying to a divine entity, only known to the still creatures of the earth - the vegetation, the flora. Robins, brown as dark leather, with a scarlet breast, so much like little red cardinals, cluster in small nests, swaying as the branches around them waver. The dead leaves, sunlight yellow, blood red and dark sage green, cover the forest floor. Down in the undergrowth spiders crawl on the leaves, hunting for fresh prey. Their dark forms are almost one with the leaves. Ants scurry under their heavy trophies, food to bring home to their young ones, and moths hover near the bursts of moonlight, dappled wings like moonlight themselves. Wolves skulk in the shadows, their golden eyes – like balls of fire - in the dark of the low-lying branches. A long, pure note is heard, rattling the bones of the entities which prowl this wood. It is clearly the witching hours, the darkest hours before the dawn.

Above the forest, the glistening moon shines, lighting up the tree-tops with a silver glow.
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Tried to keep it short and sweet.
What do you guys think?