sunset, unhurried
sunset, unhurried
words by Steven Dondlinger. Photo by Miranda Mesloh
like a bowl of joyous lava soup
spilled onto the wrinkled tablecloth
of a clouded november sky
the sunset runs, unhurried
down the edge of day.
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Great image–“a bowl of joyous lava soup spilled onto the wrinkled tablecloth”–corresponding to the photo. “Joyous” modifying “lava” catches the thrilling beauty of the scene. “Unhurried down the edge of day” keeps to the metaphor and our experience with sunsets, but evokes something more: beauty’s transience lingering in the mind perhaps?