Some Long-due Imagery

From the west windows, it looked like the sky was in flames. The storm clouds that came with the rain hung ominously over the fiery sky, gigantic cotton candy mushroom clouds. Through the windows at the far end of the train, the orange sky turned softly purple, interspersed with wisps of smoke-gray. But turn your head just a little east-ward, and the whole view was of blue, a deluge worth oceans in volume. 

May 23 '11, 6 pm

  

Windmills

I've never seen the sea in so pure a shade of blue. Beyond the shore, the horizon was simply a blurred line, where the sky seemed to melt into the ocean. The wind would make ripples on the water's surface, and with each ripple, tiny diamonds on the ocean floor would send out their lights, dancing around the sun's reflection on the sea. A narrow road coiled around the mountain, twisting, gently rising and falling until it crept nearer and nearer the water. From where I was seated, it felt like we were driving straight into the ocean.

I knew how you loved the sea, so I thought I'd take a picture to show you back home. (Heck, I even took a video.) But when I watched the playback, the blues were closer to slate, and the white sand shore looked like a dusty dirt road.
  

The proof of gold is fire...

but the proof of the rising sun at dawn
is the setting sun at dusk.
  

Me and the Rising Sun

when it's just me
and the rising sun
I know no heat
no deathly chill
only the warmth on my fingers
a gentle breeze on my face

when it's just me
and the rising sun
I know no bitterness
from yesterday's dusk
only the hopeful restlessness
of waiting for the sun

when it's just me
and the rising sun
I know not your name
you must be miles away asleep
dreaming up sunsets and starlight
it's just me and the rising sun.