There is something haunting

And achingly beautiful about

A winter sunset.

The colors are muted

And numb.

And ever so gentle.

Raw and unapologetic

Under-appreciated and quiet.

A cold, unnerving, but almost peaceful

Sorrow

Sinks into the breath

Of everything breathing tighter

Together

It’s bitter and unforgiving

But also warm and nostalgic

A somber joy resting in the details

Of frost coated sonder

lethargic, heavy and slippery

But wakefull of

Wonderment

Bridged with

Confliction.

Mistakes and memory

Stitch the quilt that

Wraps us in the comfort

Of mortality.

Beautiful.

Haunting.

Isn’t it?