The sun drips behind a nameless mountain range. Clouds bulge high then widen. One breathes in droplets from the gracious welkin in gluttonous sport. She is graceful in her expansion.
The cluster passes across the mountain and reveals the waning sun. Fingers of shadows stretch past the crease between plane and slope. Swaying sunflowers limply tilt their golden faces.
When the whisper of day is audible no longer, dusk pulls a blanket of purple royalty over the earth. The mountain is ephemerally shrouded with the absence of light until the sun sends reassurance of her return, care of the moon.