Evening Sun

Evening Sun


Evening sun drops below

A ridge line some two

Hundred yards beyond

The reach of my hand.


Stand out colors fade

Before me like unmarked

Daylight moments when I

Did not brake to watch.


This sunset sky shakes me down

With shifting oranges and reds.


I pull to the roadside and

Roll down my window.


Crested wheat grass stands

Before some dark brush

In the soft gray shade.


A four-post fence follows

The ridge line bottom

And my eyes pivot up.


Pine tree sentinels stand

Atop like curtains for

The sun’s last show.


Too soon the shocking

Colors leave me and

I am left with the grays


Of my unmarked day.

Author: William Peters

William Peters is a narrative poet who finds the occasional humor in growing old, past events, familiar objects, and even relationships. His poetry reads like a snapshot in time.

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