Mild-mannered peach sunset
over colorless fields of grain.
Trees are stark in intricate black.
Black birds detach
and fly away.
Low angled light casts reflections
on water,
never still, ever moving,
a painting.
Civilization clashes,
red lights against soft pink.
Our shapes don’t fit,
solid blocks over filigree.
In the night,
highways and cities glimmer,
convincing enough.
Not the same, though,
as stars
and snow
in the moonlight
pale and plain
though they are.