Sunset unwraps the sky into a rare purple rose.
The pending promissory note of a restful repose.
How lucky the ancient woods and sequoia forest,
What eons of sunsets has its members witnessed.
What mystery stories and legends could they relay,
Perhaps waving through the growth of the canopy,
To catch the Sun as she readies her exit strategy.
Their years of faithful service daily repaid kindly,
With offerings of her vistas that never disappoint,
Unfolding the petals of her departing silhouette.