I have never been more awed by the sky. It's a daily thing: now.
How do you watch a sunset? Every blink it changes. Your eyes, slowly crossing. I want to find the point where orange becomes red, where white turns into lavender, where the edge of that bumpy cloud suddenly glows with a lava rim.
But I can't. Because everything else wants watching too. The cypress with its wavering tip. The church point solid on the hill. The smoke, a soothing scent with heavy richness, dusting backward up from the roof. I wish I had one thousand eyes.