Yellow at first, as supple golden necklaces hanging loosely from the clouds. Then less -- and a red emerges like brilliant rose-water rising unerringly from a deep hollow across the horizon. Then even less -- a pattern of crocheted purple jewels seems to rise lazily from time immemorial to man. All blend as the crocheting continues, diminishing, partitioning, shimmering -- and in the last faint twinkle immemorial time pauses for just that moment when man may question his questions and intrigue his intrigues; until darkness, though luminescent, comes cascading down.
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Updated Thursday, 04-Mar-2004 14:58:30 PST