From a Sun Stalker

The quiet of soft evening light, a weary sun settling in for a night’s respite—

or so it appears to this sun stalker:

And I gaze without staring

into this molten light as it arranges its robes and settles into the darkening hills,

leaving gold-laced fingerprints on the clouds behind.

I breathe the quiet.

And it feels good to be here—just me and the coyotes.

But it’s over too soon,

sigh,

and I return to the real world before the black night falls.