Sunset
by Janet Smith Post

The cusp of evening takes up its brush
painting plein-air on horizon dusk,
dips a brush in the pot of melting sun
butters the sky with scarlet saffron,
skimming off golden flecks
to dust the crusts of clouds
dripping drips to stipple the tips
of ocean waves below.

The artist never signs a name,
just gifts the laws that science names,
bestowing an evening masterpiece
now slipping over the edge of sight
allowing arrival of the night.



 

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