Sonnet for the Dusk that I Saw From My Car

"Blue sky, bed soft; purple rimmed, peach and gold
Crease the angel's pouting face. Billowed wings
Lined with sunset scene: an orange disk. I'm told
It burns out colors like fire does smoke; sings

"Its rays like the marching band in the street:
Trumps blow; drums roll beneath the burning blue
Of sky and cloud, in celebration; feet
Stamp in exaltation. They know what's true.

"Sound is true. The sound of the sun. The burn
Of its light, symphony of sight. The night
Lets stars take up the bars. For now we turn
To the dusk's deep dance; trance of color. Right

"Now the band creeps on; the road is silent,
But dusk is not. It asks us what it meant."

-Jon Vowell (c) 2009