A quiet horizon slowly absorbs
a flat bronze evening sky,
its edges melting into a dusky mist.
There were no low rumbles
or gusts of wind or clouds
forming and reforming;
a weighted silence pressed down
onto a solemn ground.
It was a moment of looking up,
Wondering what would be next.
Preparing for change. Waiting.
Soon, the bronze sky faded.
Silence continued. Dusk yielded
into night, painting everything black.
Roger Singer 