(Sunset)

     Sometimes at sunset, I feel like it's the end of my life. The fiery trees are a blur of color; oranges, reds, yellows and greens, mingled in transition. The bugs in the air are specks of dust, hovering over the brightened colors. As the light stretches out, it's reach just brushes the tops of the foothills. I am aware of the pain that comes with seasons. New growth, opening wide a clenched fist to realize you just want to hold my hand. I am aware of the pain of self preservation, and freshly aware of the ache of an open heart. The ache of a thousand muscles relaxing. The pain of a heart coming alive. With a living heart, each color has meaning. Each contrail etched against the blue reminds me of journeys and things behind me. Sunset is transition from day to night. Transition is where you come up for air and feel everything and just where you've been living and how much time has passed. It is hard but beautiful, and sunset means sunrise is next.