yesterday was flung into the setting sun
— arcing over a canopy that brushed
the pale pink and purple puffs that softened
the sky — pulled down, to its end, into the horizon
sunsets in autumn, an end to an end — curtain calls
before the curtain falls to the ghost light
— the gradual fading of applause,
our audience leaving with what took root
an end is a marker on a path leading to the next
— a heady landscape to raise and bring down —
a nuclear pivot to choose how you will bow
and the intention of your sowing
grace upon grace, from Grace, in each setting sun,
we receive a moment to fling or to hold — be bold —
to retire, resigned, pulled down into the horizon,
expectant of occasion and blessing renewed
a tilting of air 