Favourite pastime

My favorite moment of the day is sunset. The golden rays of the setting sun reveal a lot to me: better is the end of something than its beginning. Watching the sun fall reminds me that my soul will remain an infant. I don’t want to get used to it. It heals a part of me. Surely, it’s a very personal nostalgia for me, one I enjoy alone.

One good thing about the countryside is the abundance of green spaces. I remember sitting alone in empty fields. I only had to share with numerous insects, birds, and rodents. I believe they all came to witness the sunset. For me, life goes beyond the noise of hustle-bustle.

I’m reliving a moment I cherish. Sometimes pens and words can’t carry all the meaning a poet tries to see or capture. Good night, my friends.

Night Poem: Setting Sun

I wonder why she hides behind the hills and clouds,
shying away from the approaching breezy evening,
on clouds where birds fly in echelon, calling a farewell as they go,
on cast tree shadows hanging on the springs like rags on the rail.
Bored frogs may resume their croaky ballads—
hundreds of bass voices singing in harmony.
The colored clouds melt before the retreating day,
as strange images are drawn across the graying skies.
From the distance, the shepherd calls to his happy sheep,
for the solemn day and her escort have packed their caravan,
and soon the dark clouds will conceal all in her warm embrace.