Provocation at Sunset

A poem inspired by an early spring display.

The sun was selfish, an ancient child,

A show-off keeping Her colors within the orb.

Of course, there was the obligatory bleeding,

Teases and taints, really

Pink, blue, a smattering of coral for good measure,

Hints and hues, a flirtatious suggestion that

She might grudgingly share more…

But the luscious fuchsia,

The fiery orange,

The brilliant, burning red,

Those were colors torrid, searing, and vivacious,

Impossible colors contained inside a blistering globe, swelling and threatening to

burst from her flaming boundaries.

Time, and all in its sweep, were caught in a

Breath-catching,

Heart-tripping,

Life-stopping

Moment…

The sphere stretched

Toward a horizon too small for Her glory.

Slowly, yet somehow

Swiftly,

She plies Her final taunt,

Sliding into the dark,

Tossing back hot whispers

“I’ll come again, but only

if you watch…”

Author's Note

Flourished with grace and beauty by Wes Guptill