Sunset

Have you ever been nostalgic for a moment before it ends,

felt a palpable poignancy in the very air,

each breath more bittersweet, more aware, more beautifully doomed

than Helen before

Persephone took her place

in the Hall of Judgement.

Colors melt into the sky like a surrender to an embrace,

the vibrance

temporary,

fleeting.

Something whispers in the depths of me, pay attention,

it says,

this is important,

you will never

be here again,

so let it sink

into every fiber,

every leaf of every tree breathing our names,

the secret ones

even we don’t speak,

the sparkling waters of every ocean-bound creek and river,

the flowers—blossoms of azalea, camillia, and dogwood beneath wisteria’s graceful purple choke fading to lavender.

When the mountains sigh in content, waves curl on the beach, wind fills sails, and I know.

Whatever this has been

is ending,

and the sun

will rise in the east

tomorrow morning.