One of those springtime sunsets so vivid, powerful and luminous that it brings a shoreline witness to her knees. At the same time, it makes her want to sing and shout and dance (or more likely hobble and lurch) along the beach in sheer jubilation.
The descending April sun pours its light over the lake like liquid gold, and the western shore is merely a suggestion of misty hills seen through the shimmer. Only a fool would try to paint such liminal moments, and even the best of photos seldom captures more than a scrap of their enchantment, but I am a fool and admit it cheerfully.
The light and clouds and waves have to be just right for such vistas, and if they were potions, they would possess enough magic and pack enough radiant power to convey immortality. Even old Croesus can't match these riches, and he would surely be entranced by all this gold. And me??? I just sit here on the beach with my camera and my mouth hanging open in wonder?
4 comments:
I understand...
It is a vision not just a sunset.
pure beauty! and your poetry is always thrilling to read - thrilling because of its richness, but often very calming for my tired eyes and sleep deprived soul. wonderful!
Oh the shore with you...mouth hanging open in wonder. Exquisite...
Post a Comment