Backlit from residual sun
as though they glow on their own
puffs of pale stripe
the gradient of dusk--cornflower
zenith and still like summer noon
at three except where darkening
violets rumble for minutes.

A sickle of shine
thickening by nights belies
the sphere it might become
a color form or the shape
of light and sound
sisters of the same spectrum
I need not parse.

© 2004, Amy Hart.