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Situated on the compact grass,
grains of sand underlying the plant that wildly grows.
Shamrock color coating the square piece of meadow,
fading to a flaxen pigment at the tip of each miniscule stalk.
My fingers comb through the separate blades,
as sharp as an obsidian knife edge. The roots
robust, planted in the layer of grit,
standing stock still.

The sun is a bulbous globe of fiery light
igniting the sky before it is called to sleep.
As the sun passes on the work of the day,
the glowing moon slides into the atmosphere
with a golden halo, emitting rays of luminosity.
Bright blue dissolving, the vault of heaven
as clear as a polished prism,
ready for the evening to engulf
the luster of summer.

Pink streaks are painted into azure; I think
of a glass of cold, refreshing strawberry lemonade.
Apricot spreads evenly across the darkening sky,
radiating amber highlights in rare places.
Crimson red meets apricot, and they dance:
moonwalking, pirouetting, spinning, twirling.
After the debut of the complete sunset colors,
royal periwinkle plunges with a swan dive
gracing the remaining sky.

I stay in my place, eyes in awe,
head turned upward toward the unknown.
The sun disappears from observation, leisurely obeying gravity,
all sunset intensity following.
Time is frozen, not passing, until the colors vanish.
I wait for the superior darkness to encompass my surroundings.
Ebony black becomes the origination of night,
writing with a fountain pen across the sky, until the ebony
becomes a midnight void.

In the black, blazing creatures with open wings find bliss.
Riding the soft air currents that gently sway,
fireflies, soaring, discovering
freedom in the beauty of aviation,
fearless in shining their light,
prepared to reveal themselves in the velvet darkness
of the universe.