seated
on a bright yellow stone slab bench
beside a cobblestone path
diving steeply into dark forest

my page illuminated
by the last trace of filtered sunlight
this overcast Friday eve

mountains peeking through low clouds
marking dark silhouettes
against a blue-gray southeast sky
hints of pink paint the western clouds
softly bidding us goodnight

scattered shouts
and musical notes
waft up from the town's bars below
dancing through the trees
flowing to the rhythmic folklore
of the local vallenato band

night closes in
darker each minute
the thin yellow crescent overhead
seizes its moment
shining brighter and louder
through the wispy clouds

as mountains emerge at last from fog
they dissolve just as quickly
into the black sky

all vibrant hues melt away
the bench transforms
dark yellow becomes gray
beneath my weight

one last vestige of color lingers on
the dull red burning on the horizon
sparks an inner fire of gratitude
for every second of light
every second of life

my page descends into darkness
written thoughts plunge back
into the unexpressed depths of the mind

Night falls.