James G. Piatt

Diaphanous cumulus clouds, tinted from
The last flames of summer’s twilight
Sun, colors of crimson, pink, and
Orange with narrow remnants of blue
Sky left over, stretch lazily across the
Horizon like colored oils dripping on an
Artist’s canvas, like an amorphous
Inferno of paint splashed upon hill and
Meadow, culminating in a cacophony of
Glowing shades of vivid hues bounding
Over one another then fading into a pale
Pomegranate hue. The outline of trees,
Slowly emerge in the dark gray
Perspective and then abandoned by the
Sun, disappear from sight as darkness
Penetrates the atmosphere. In the day’s
Last breath before nightfall, I stand
Motionless in the silence of an old dirt
Road watching the end of another
Beautiful summer day, knowing that
Another exactly like it will never come
This way again.