"Sundown"

Sundown in the city
and all the pace
seems to turn to a sway.
Is it the dying of the light
that steadies the erratic beat?
or is it perhaps the fading
that reminds the forgetful dwellers
that the dying is ever in them,
gestating?
But these things are too sombre
for the sun,
as it ought to be for us diurnally kissed
by fire.
The fall of an eternal—
it happens at every sunset
but occurs not with a quickened breath
or a desire for finality;
it descends at its own pace,
on its own terms,
and with such great colour and fanfare and dignity.

It is sundown in the city
and the pace turns to a sway.

Ex Tempore XLVI
M.M. — 29-Apr-2013