Misty Sundown

So many variations of a perfect sunrise, a breathtaking sunset, and yet — like spoiled children — we yearn for more. More colorful. More dramatic. More lingering. But, this misty sundown redefined the limits.

Moody dome. Warm light, gently filtered. Colors few, but saturation intense. And mist. Ground-clinging, gossamer haze blurring the ground-to-trees transition. Mysterious. Mesmerizing. Beyond beautiful.

Still summer.
September
subsiding
from august
into autumn, 
autumning.
Falling…
Warm earth
steaming off
three months
of rain.
Evening,
barely blushing,
silhouettes
familiar forms,
conjures 
nostalgia
or apparitions
or words willed
against the
gloaming. 

Moody dome. Moody mist. Moody poem. Credit (or blame) a misty sundown.