walking at dusk
an invisible
young
artist
splatters the sky
with
silvery, glittery
globs of
paint.
walking at dawn
the serious sun
emanates
broad strokes
from a bucket
of morning colors
to fill the corners of the horizon
with an outpouring
of light.
walking at the twelves
the sky
sits transiently stagnant.
the window of stillness lasts
long enough for me
to dash
and grab a mini brush
to reach
and streak a line
from end to end,
like the trail of a plane
flying around the universe
or world.
DLS
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