
Sparkling golden hour:
the sun folds in on itself;
red wine stain remains.

Sparkling golden hour:
the sun folds in on itself;
red wine stain remains.
Look up to the skies;
amidst a patchwork of leaves,
the sun pokes its head.


Peeking through bare trees,
an eye in the horizon—
tiredly the sun sets.

Stretching lazy limbs,
cracking joints and waking up,
overnight plane lands.