The purple bruise on the sky expands

The purple bruise on the sky expands,

swallowing the pink. The streetlights

flicker, then hold, in the cooling air.

Power lines, sharp and black,

cut across that fading smear.

Everything quiets, but the knowing stare

of what comes next. That brief, bright pause,

before the true dark claims its cause.

I stand here, watching, holding breath.

Not quite ready for the quiet death.