As long as my breath still catches in my throat at a tinge of pink on the western horizon at sunrise—I’m good.
I’m really not sure I want to live without being moved. And, well, not being moved…can one call that life in any case?
But this morning, here they are! The pinks!
I could watch their shades all day. How they go from rose-pink to pink-pink to peach-pink to pale-yellow-pink.
The way they spread themselves like a curtain, drape themselves across all these accommodating clouds, without which, they would be diluted beyond detection, lost to distance.
These daily clouds of ours, what are they but canvasses?
Photography by adela c. licona (Mi Vida Landscapes)
A great way of being “in the pink.”
Thanks.
PS – check out “in the pink” on Google
This catching of breath can occur in the east in the evening on the alternate horizon too and when conditions are right one can be breathless twice in one day. I am encouraged to be more breathless with your poetic eye.
Thank you Sam!
Ah, thanks Ray! Like that.