Sunday #24

This is my first (well, second?) contribution to a current experiment with my ol' friend fragondruit over at idontremembermyurl.  It's an exercise in stealing lines, in a way, so the line I stole from her recent poem "Morning in Late September" is italicized below.  Links to the first two poems in the experiment are below:
 
Part 1:  "Love Song for the End of Summer"


Part 2: "Morning in Late September"

And here's part three--


A New Sunset


three years spent watching the same horizon--
each sunset was beautiful, with colors
one could swear only existed before in dreams,

or the soft life of an impressionist, fine
feather strokes until all the edges
eroded, and the coating of dust was an experiment

in shading.  but repeated wonders grow mundane,
so, like a jaded museum docent drenched in Monet,
I turned away from each evening unimpressed.

to deny such beauty is another tiny death--
but a new horizon, obscured by buildings,
presents a different perspective as the late
sky erupts in fiery reds, volcanic and heavenly,
and the grey-scale patina choking the air fades.

the right angle of light cast upon a familiar
scene can breathe a shuddering wind through
the formless grass, shake what has not moved

since the artist placed his final touches,
and engulf the ends of the world in a new
warmth that spreads, dancing along each nerve,

until once-closed eyes again acknowledge
the perfection of the spiraling colors
surrounding the daily departure of the Sun.