i wish i could show you, this late cantaloupe afternoon in gold-glimmer sky -

muskmelon, nutmeg papaya , misting dim through cheesecloth sift,

a purple-red globe hangs on spider trees when the breeze is blue,

swathed in twisty turns and sharp corners that shout with no sound.

the sun, that harmless ball set in pale, retreating west away and far,

but here, near, and over there; grey wings fly home, chattering

all the way to eaves, last chirps beckon behind-time birds; and all green

things hold their breaths for sunset, only a breathing space away;

and hush sounds holy while last horizons rest behind the trees here, in fragile blue -

and in the night-pink light, dust becomes dusk just as dusk becomes the dust.

seasofme200815parallaxis

this is how some sunsets are for me. i recognise them through these words; i can recall them because of these words when i read here. makes me think i did it right, somehow.