spring sunset

I was going to blog about the mid-April sunset as a metaphor for hope juxtaposed with the conclusion of another day. Instead, I’ll just look out my window on an unseasonably mild spring afternoon and write down what I observe.

spring sunset —
a faded red ribbon
tied to a tree

spring sunset —
a twig snaps
beneath the tire

spring sunset —
a sigh of resignation
when the lawn mower starts

spring sunset —
the next-door neighbor’s
noisy convertible

spring sunset —
our old dog’s
heavy sigh

vapor trail

Walking my dog tonight, as I do five nights a week, I notice it’s getting darker later and later. Bonita’s age — she turns twelve next month — renders her more and more anxious to indulge herself in her favorite activity earlier and earlier. Tonight it was about a half hour past sunset, but still light enough to see the vapor trails from passing airplanes that are ubiquitous in the Suburbs. I had seen this phenomenon countless times before, but tonight it got me thinking, first of the classic song by Ride, and then a myriad images of things ephemeral...

news of his illness —
a vapor trail
in the sky

his faraway voice —
a vapor trail
in the sky

my rising blood pressure —
a vapor trail
in the sky

wilting daffodils —
a vapor trail
in the sky

her graying muzzle —
a vapor trail
in the sky