2008-06-16Lake Powell 107


The curtain unfolds as the artist begins her masterpiece.  Light, wispy brushstrokes at first.  Pink and orange against a canvas of blue and white.  The colors deepen.  Mountain silhouettes of violet.  Velvety in texture.  Dark orange.  Fades in to red.  Fades into purple.  Fades into blue.  Fading off into infinity.  Then lakes.  Lakes in the sky.  Islands.  Lagoons.  Inlets.  Sailboats.  The audience hangs in anticipation.  Not a living creature stirs.  Nature’s time out.  Then city scapes.  Floating on the horizon.  Seagulls.  Pelicans.  Sand dunes.  Deep orange in color.  Purple pyramids in the distance.  The living art.  A masterpiece.  A one of a kind, improvisational showcase of dazzling color, texture, and depth.  The colors intensify.  Blood red.  Indigo.  Sandstone.  Slate.  The artist paints with a fury but her paint is starting to fade.  Pale yellow.  Misty peach.  Heather gray.  Baby blue.  Fading.  Fading.  Fading.  As the canvas reveals the colors of the night sky, the artist finally takes a bow.  And life resumes as before.

Sunset Reprise.

Night has began.  The audience has left the show.  The theater is empty.  Except for a few.  The lucky ones who have waited around.  For they have been to this show before.  They know the secret.  The colors on the canvas start to deepen once again.  Passionate shades of red, orange, and yellow paint the horizon.  This time against a backdrop of jet black mountains.  Peaks.  Spires.  Perfect pines, black as the night frame the painting.  And bats flutter, ink black, through the rich colors of the night.  Distant ships appear on the horizon.  Tiny islands float in a Tequila Sea.  Faraway oceans glimmer in the distance.  Suggesting enchanting worlds of mystery and romance.  Dark clouds, the color of night, float on a deep blue sky as the first star of the evening shows her sparkle.  The viewers eyes get heavy as the sunsets colors deepen to such intensity that black is all that remains.  In the southwest corner of the theater, the moon finally rises through a cloudy mist.  The night has finally returned.



Sunset — 2 Comments

  1. Happy little trees! We’ll just places them right there…maybe they’re living just above a river…yep, a river is right there. You are the Bob Ross of camping.

    Love the “Reprise”, as if it is Tweezer.

    Keep it up.

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