When the sun sets,

A certain way,

The light remains,

Although the source of it

Is sloŵly extinguished.

And where the clouds 

Bank and congregate,

It is as if someone

Has taken a paintbrush

And lazily dragged 

À ribbon of tangerine

Across the sky. 

© Text Caro Ness 2016 

 

Photo:  www.twicopy.com