Sunset in Morningview, KY
crawls - like
a toddler slowly scoots
toward curiosity - over the hills
that have become a shelter for the declining sun.
re-fractures into a million
shades of purple, pink, orange and red,
distorted by the wonderful atmospheric prism.
burn hot in
the surrounding valleys,
sending the natural sap-tinted
smell of renewal floating through my nostrils.
give off the scent of
fertile soil, as if the earth has
been ground down so finely that it too can fly.
fresh from the dirt,
taste like sweet onions,
causing my mouth to water and rejoice
in the bountiful flavors that nature has provided.
not yet ripened,
tease the taste-buds with
the promise of the juice induced
happiness that will come in just a few more days.
falls like silent rain
over a bed of grass and
leaves that have parachuted from
the tip-tops of giant Oaks and ancient Sycamores.
gentle and comforting,
quietly gust and cause little
bumps on my arms and neck in delight
at the temporary relief from the valley’s humidity.
echo through the valley like
the violins reverberating in Beethoven’s mind.
Crickets chime in with their chirps of up-tempo percussion.
and red ones alike,
tweet their evening song
as if wishing the world fruitful dreams and
giving a final melodic offering to the emerging full moon.
Ryan Kauffman is a first-year MFA candidate at Northern Michigan University. His previous work has appeared in Mused: The Bella Online Literary Journal, The Western Online, The Fringe Magazine, Writing Raw, and Haiku Journal. He currently lives in Marquette, Michigan.
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