Glimpses

 

 

 

 

Still there.  Still there.  Still there.  Gone.

Exquisite.  This ritual.
Never tiring.
A summer sun sinking low.

An orange ball of fire.
Mesmerizing.
As it drops.  Little by little.
Magic created daily.

Amidst great fanfare.
Or in the quiet solitude.

And suddenly.  No more.

And our hearts full.
For having participated.
Grateful.
For the glory displayed.

And then.

Dusk.
Also a thing of beauty.
Wrapping us in a cloak of warmth and gentle breeze.
Covering with the gradual parade of stars.

God continuing.
To write poetry.
All over the skies.

And then in our lives.

The night sky filling the senses. 
Warmth and flickering stars and night breezes.

No wonder it is calling our name.

A season so full of promise.

How it resonates.

In a way we cannot understand.
Or explain.
But we chase it.  Long for it.

To see.

Glimpses of eternity in the everyday.