Quiet Pulling

that sun rising

from the overlook

the narrows in the distance

perhaps

two ridges enclosing as arms

forming

a space both vulnerable/safe

perhaps

it was that sunrise that became

this sunset

here so far away

days past, though

its orange-yellow glow sounded

with each movement

over snow at sunset

suspended moment where it may

be falling or rising below/above

the ridge, here

leaving, too, an orange-

though violet path

its narrowness regarding

it held me in its view, let me

be there, again, safe in closing,

opening, thin strand I

thank you, it, for

letting me be there before its quiet

pulling

away

that’s always

coming.

The sky: orange-violet-golden, calling. The colors of the present drew me, quietly pulled me toward a distant memory of a sunrise thousands of miles away. And so, in that arc of the darkening and merging ridges, it seemed for seconds that two worlds unfolded to hold me in a comforting suspension of time before quietly pulling away.