Sunsets are my favorite quiet time. Sunsets are prettier and golden out here on the blue horizon and the footsteps of the great mountains of New Mexico. The lower parts of the white clouds glitter, portraying a shade like that seen on wallpapers. My poetry can not explain the beauty of the views. Sometimes I wonder. I let my mind wander. I only have to sit or stand still and smile at the retreating sun. It gives me hope to know I have been a child to my feelings about the sunset all this while. I don’t want to get used to this feeling.

What do you see when the sun sets—the end of advent or advent of the end? I say that the ending of something is the beginning of another and vice versa. Life will find a way to go on, anyhow.