I must have seen
a hundred by now.
But I'll never bore
of the spin away
from the warming light,
the clouds transformed
pink and violet,
and the blinding glow
split in two,
like yin and yang,
like Saturn.

Tucked into a
cotton pocket,
weaving gold thread over
the cauliflower horizon.
A crown of shadows
blooms in the mirrored sky,
as the orb I'm tethered to
turns it's shoulder
on the light again,
and I nod goodbye to the sun.