there does not always have to be a sunset…

sure, the postcard is nice, the dream, what we are told is the model, the perfection, but, the feeling is the same, sitting here on my porch with my brandy new torch (well, it is a lantern but that didn’t rhyme with porch – actual photo), so… just watching the world wind down, the day sounds mold into the night ones, with the occasional interloper, a cardinal that seems frantic for some reason bounding around the little branches of my japanese maple, but then the heavy humidity of the cricket chorus starts to chime in, the sun’s minions, arms, tentacles, tabernacles of light, slowly melting behind the neighbor’s house, not as spectacular a sight as a celestial glowing ball lighting up the sky with all manners of hue, but this will suffice, almost like a slow bleed, a slow retreat, inch by inch by feet, allowing the heat to escape up into the coming night, knowing in my head this is really just the world spinning in a certain direction does not distract me from the sensation of my ethereal reaction, because such things are defined and so well blueprinted out does not make them any less amazing, so it back, and listen, observe, there is wonder even in a hidden sunset.