Homeward bound; night closing in.
Ears beset by the traffic's din.
Idly gazing at the sky,
Noticing the clouds on high.
Suddenly I saw the colour
Previously greyer, duller,
Change to a wondrous rose-pink shade,
Then to a deeper marmalade!
Then pink and orange caught on fire!
Just as the sun sought to retire.
Then clouds drew back to make a stage
For the sinking sun to fade to beige.
I felt that I should throw bouquets
At the sun's exhausted rays.
The clouds like curtains drew apart
As I applauded the work of art.
'The Dying Swan', I felt, should play!
Traffic noise faded, as did the day.
Dazzle at the other end of the day here: