AT DAYS END (2022.08.22)

The setting sun
creates fire in the sky.
Flaming yellow, orange and red. 
Filling heaven's dome on the westward rim.
A quiet slow burning…
that if you allow it…
will slow down time,
transforming burning consumption
into transfixed wonderment,
as the day is calmly destroyed
in brilliant visibly-changing color.

Birds fly to their nests
creatures burrow in their dens
and other resting spaces.
And I, heart-harnessed
to Phaethon's Chariot
as it recedes over the horizon,
am humbled by the beauty.
My eyelids, growing heavy with the fading light, 
also find solace and rest.
An ending for some.
A beginning for others. 

The chirping of birds gives way
to the chirping of crickets
and lightning bugs twinkle at twilight
in the shadow of darkness 
like stars on the wing
that children can chase
and catch with their hands
then marvel at the magic
within their grasp.
Letting go to see the stars take flight.
Dreamtime has come again.

I wrote this poem while listening to this music and watching the sun set. https://youtu.be/O41y9vuVT3s
Best if not played to loud and even better if reading the poem out loud (slowly with a sense of longing and wonder) while the music is playing.