Stealth chill of night
sneaks over to fondle me;
a burning sun still visible,
though balancing
on the rim of
a distant
Pacific.

Clouds swirl in a gentle anger;
lighted from beneath
with a blazing
orange-yellow wreath
of sun’s dying rays.

Hints of night’s impending
coup d’etat
loom in the east;
darkness,
ready to purloin
this day’s sky,
and rejoin
the wry
starkness
of night.

The day revived me,
enlivened me.

Coming night
refreshes me;
enmeshes me
in the evening’s
repose.

It will be good
to have been here:
witness to sun’s
retreat from
night’s new
dominion.

It is good to
be here.

It is good…
to be.

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