Sun-Spots

I return to my regular sunset spot
Cold for early April bundled in down
Layers on layers loving the cold air wind
Bracing my face as spots fill my vision
From bright sun staring waiting waiting
The fresh green leaf buds on low
Hanging branches exciting my heart
Beyond the fence rolling hill meadow
Glows periwinkle with fresh spring carpet
White brushed on clouds frame sinking
Orange flare I’m suddenly conscious of
Stereo birdsong filling the thin crisp air
As beams cast huge shadows a distant white
Horse trots uphill ambling like a polar bear
I smile my sun-spot filled eyes deceive
I stand quiet waiting waiting silent still
As the last erupting orange bit dissolves

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