Even on a day without the sun

 

 

 

 

Under a heavy liquid smoke sky, uplit in neon peach from some gentler corner of the horizon, melancholy clouds the color of the asphalt stretched taut below roll and loll, doing their moody best to shrink and shrug off a molten rose gilding, which, unaffected and unconcerned, burns all the more brilliant as it drips back to the sinking sun, singing a brilliant, soaring swan song from the edge of the world before it gives over it’s day to the darkness and slips below the boundary of sight.

Everything is beautiful.

~ by Anna on May 4, 2009.