Even on the coldest days
I’ll gladly lose some heat
for the privilege of leaning
out my open window
to behold the sun melting
like blinding yellow
butterscotch lava behind
a jagged ridge of ancient stone
a ritual as old
as the oldest sun
long since cold and gone
but tonight we breathe
and bear witness
to another sun slinking further
south along the ridge
until 11 days from now
where it will hold its furthest
position for two days
as if deciding whether to
turn back or
go further
(I’ve always wondered
why no one wrote a sci-fi
apocalypse story based on
that last scenario)
but then it crawls
slowly, slowly back
and I’m dizzy thinking
yet how quickly it arcs
towards the other side
of the sky
the bright pendulum
swinging between
thick arms of the Rockies
is ticking faster
the evening will soon
fall when I will
no longer
keep up.
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