That summer evening
the sky was pink and raw
and your eyes were streaked in red.
We could feel the cool air
rush between us,
in day and under night.
There were monsoons churning just miles away,
we could feel these winds too.
Sounds became amplified
in dusk and static cling.
You could hear quite clearly this ring,
some say halo
spreading above.
Colors holding onto some blended harmony,
a lilac or plum, some and none.
When we look up, you say away
our trajectory changes its synchronicity,
which was never the same as settling.
We knew the heat wave would break
as much as the cold spell would snap
the last straw, but we watched the change
wash over us.
We know, but forget constantly.
At times like these,
warm rain reminds us
endurance and presence
are more than enough.
Painting by Jean-Honoré Fragonard (1732-1836) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
