A soft spring sunset
filters through park tree leaves.
Travelers fill the roads, heading home
to late dinners and early bedtimes,
prepping to complain about Monday morning.
Time is seized by pets and children,
and the night’s calm settles like a
or a hug,
or a shroud.
And just for a while,
the veneer of normalcy
rolls down the windshield
of my parked car.
given golden coronas
by the setting sun.
And for a brief moment,
for these harbingers of new life
that have served their purpose,
a moment of silence,
and gratitude to have seen
Our moral compass
can’t find its magnetic north
and we’re lost again.