Short Stories & Poems

Scenes from Sunsets

Photo by Sunyu Kim on Pexels.com


Spring. 


The sky is pink, and the world is just beginning to shake off the chill of winter and the warmth of spring. Soft clouds lay against the darkening sky, painted with the bright colors of the sinking sun. White blossoms and red-tinted leaves stretch outward in the lingering light, swaying in the gentle winds that rock them to sleep, and the sweet scent of their new life clings to the air. Birds flit from the ground to their nests, snatching worms up in their sharp beaks to deliver to their young; their cries and chirps echo through the still, shadowed forests. A thin, crescent moon hangs high amidst the blush of the clouds, like a smile in the sky, waiting for the stars to make their way into the heavens and tell their stories to all who look and see. 

Summer.

The sky is dark, overtaken by rolling clouds casting their dark shadows over the fields and mountains. The scent of rain hangs heavy in the hot air, and an ominous rumble sounds out from the horizon. A wind builds up, slow but steady, mercilessly shaking the full branches of the trees and tossing their bright crowns to and fro. The light fades little by little as the hidden sun slinks down below the darkened horizon, bidding farewell as the first drops of rain touch the rippling grass.

Autumn.

The sky is golden, glowing orange against the dark hues of the landscape. Leafless trees stand like dark skeletons against the last light of the day, tall and resolute and still in the crisp air. The scent of earth is thick, spiraling up from the damp, leaf-covered ground and into the cloud strewn sky. A cry of geese splits the silence as the birds make their way through the darkening sky, squawking specks passing the sunset by. A harsh, chill wind rises and falls, sweeping the ground and tearing the few resilient leaves from their trees. 

Winter.

The sky is clear, and the sun bids its farewell in an explosion of yellow and orange. Light streaks up past the snow-covered trees, shining through the clinging and trembling icicles. An intrepid squirrel makes its way through the snowy encampment of the forest floor, desperately seeking its buried dinner. Tiny flakes drift silently through the sky, coming to rest among the already snow-covered world. The constant cold of the air hugs every creature, trying to penetrate their cold blocking fur coats. The scent of smoke rising from a warming fire pierces the chill of the pure air. The light of the sun disappears as quickly and as suddenly as its colors had arose, and the sky is overtaken by the multitude of stars that hush the world into its deep sleep. 

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