The gentle, well-traveled sky,
with luminous herds
drifting mildly home,
seems more familiar
than the shadowed houses
or the palms, standing paper-still
in perfect silhouette.

The great herdsman sun,
gathers his strength
just below the horizon,
stretches soundlessly,

Climbs into the sky,
pulling on his great blue shirt.
His face burns my eyes and I look away,