We’d gone for a slice of pizza and looked west on our drive through the rural rolling hills of Georgia. What we saw took our breath away. Golden twilight peeking over the hill. I stopped at the end of our driveway and photographed it, hoping to capture the vibrant reds, oranges, and yellows like a brush stroke of melted crayons. The next morning, I opened the front door to the beauty of the sun over the recent harvesting of trees.
Beauty surrounds us in this place we call home, and I wanted to share the artistry of the skies. It’s not always able to be seen this way in cloudless ways, but even though the eye can’t always see through to it, I know it’s always there. It’s euphoric when it reveals itself in its full splendor.
Here is an EAST WEST poem to celebrate the skies!
Evening West, Morning East
W her E
E uphori A
S urmount S ~
T wiligh T
Common Threads 