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,
reassured.
