TO THE SUNSET YONDER

many evenings find me seated facing the hills beyond eye's reach at the sunset yonder Painting everything with it's hue like a great golden blanket spreading warmth across it's path a choir of birds erupt into song as if singing a dirge to the dying sun one last attempt at singing back a day a day we all thought commended and sunset finds us still amazed befuddled by sunrise's beauty poets are outdoing one another each one wanting to capture in the mouthiest of verses painters burn their canvases frustrated at their sorry attempts at getting the perfect creation of dawn lovers never wanting to be left out add to the swarm that mills around it only for them to glimpse at the hills west to the beautiful nothingness bliss with no name to the sunset yonder