The crisp bit of a winter evening, not quite felt -
The smoke rising with my gaze,
wavering toward heaven.
Yet the layer of dullness
Quoshes my quest.
For how can one soar with this heavy heart?
And I forget
That just below, beauty reigns.
The whisper of clouds, like feathers,
moving, still
beyond time, beyond place.
And higher still, a striking sight.
Pulsing red slivers surround
Its purple majesty, impinging
on this otherwise calm sky.