Flying east at dusk

The setting sun
chases us eastward
orange-scorched ripples
of cumulus white race
with us neck-and-neck

ablaze, dying wisps of cotton
embers envelop us while
about to be snuffed out by
rapidly encroaching nightfall

fleeting light from behind
speeds toward
a head-on collision
with onrushing darkness

a mesmerizing train wreck
at thirty-thousand feet
I cannot turn away from

as the now fading sun collides
with momentum-building night
the coloring-book lines
are only momentarily maintained
before we fade to black

day meets night
night meets day
never have I witnessed
their passionate, daily
coupling as tonight

old song lyrics
come sharply to mind;
‘where the blue of the night
meets the gold of the day,
someone waits for me…’

though I was there by chance
on time and unplanned finding
no one unexpectedly waiting
I could have still lingered
not minding at all the lack of
unexpected company as more
than fair trade-off for being able to
savor with gleeful regret and joy
that the moment was only that.

– Mark Lucker