The winds arrive
and excite the waves,
even the green
line up about the bay,
my car detours
the same way,
all of us drawn to bid farewell
in reverence
to the last light of day,
casting down
in glorious display,
the awe
once ingrained
can never be
washed away,
to witness
the heavens
on an otherwise ordinary
Saturday.
The grasses seem to try to grasp
the sacred flame as it descends,
as if before bed to hug and kiss it,
or beg for themselves to be orange-painted.
The clouds huddle
and combine their potential
to honor in color
and escort the sun out
as if it were royal,
but royal is of the flesh and blood,
created, too, from the Ultimate Artist’s brush.
All images taken 2/1/20 @LauraDenise
Laura Denise 