The Permanences in Transience

The beauty of this time, the beauty of this place,
A skyline crowding to new patterns, orange resolving
To new purples, shapes of cloud and mountain glide in pairs.
A glow beyond the mountain, of the low sun
Sends high beams out of gold to the top of the sky
In the blue wash between night and day,
When the moon is not yet gone.

Too beautiful to stay.

Blue hills and pink clouds,
The swirl of other worlds,
Is a scent inside my lungs
Resinous and dry,
Empties out my heart wide.