A bright flare on the horizon
A glow extending to the zenith
From the end of it all
Dark clouds hide the source
Light jets like a burner
Pure gold fills the windshield
A cold front moves in
Enveloping the heart
Snuffing the light
Ending the day for one.
It is not nature's first gold
But her last that we remember
It is our calling,
Our ending.
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