Tuesday, May 8, 2012

Sunset (sonnet)

A sunset's fire-red will never last
nor will the orange or the pink glow cast
shine out for long, it is a fickle thing,
this perfect moment when the robins sing
farewell to day, or else to greet the night.
And so you mourn the briefness of the light
that burns perfection till it pains your soul
to watch it fade so fast into night's hole.

But I would ease your mind and calm your heart:
the sunset which both you and I are part
as watchers does indeed fade fast from sight;
but Earth is wide-- this moment's colored lights
that charge together both the soul and sky
are always somewhere painting widened eyes.