Light is no more.
Gone are the non-photo blue skies
At one of sixteen thousand shutters.
Ch-ckk.
It echoes like a fading memory.
Little by little, the popping colours are swept away
By the ethereal arrival of warmer tones
Of tawny, amber, and vermillion,
Painting an acrylic autumn scene.
It will not be long before swatches of
Timberwolf, glaucous, and snow
Are stitched together into a toasty-warm quilt.
We welcome the serenity of the night.
Gone are the non-photo blue skies
At one of sixteen thousand shutters.
Ch-ckk.
It echoes like a fading memory.
Little by little, the popping colours are swept away
By the ethereal arrival of warmer tones
Of tawny, amber, and vermillion,
Painting an acrylic autumn scene.
It will not be long before swatches of
Timberwolf, glaucous, and snow
Are stitched together into a toasty-warm quilt.
We welcome the serenity of the night.