Chasing Sunsets

The sun faded in front of him as he headed west.

No matter how fast he drove,

The golden goal eluded him nightly,

Hiding carefully on the back side of the world.

And he ignored everything trying to catch the sun:

The vast cornfields of Iowa, the orange waters of the Colorado River

Flowing through canyons of ancient clay, and the sounds,

The sights, his wife.

“When I get to the shore,

You’ll be waiting for me,” he chided his nemesis.

And so he chased that sun until he got to the Golden coast,

Where the sun did, in fact, wait. Then laughed.

Then faded out of his sight.

July, 2008