The light of 6 pm invites my eyes
to gaze unshielded toward the scene across
my busy street. I try to analyze
the glow that lays as soft as early moss,
as gentle as the sound of water drops
upon a pool, as weightless as a scent.
The sun arrays oblique before it stops,
and as it shifts, so my perception’s bent.

The lilies’ yellow color sinks to cream.
The leaves of bay and oak are underlit.
The noontime glare becomes a dusty dream
as shadows lace the houses opposite.
Now waning sunlight glimmers and I’m well
again, cocooned in sunset’s lambent spell.