Once during a bout of writer’s block, I asked a friend to suggest a poem topic. He told me to describe the best sunset I had ever seen, and although I have been able to write since his advice, I have yet to complete his “assignment.” Unlike the indefinable impediment that is writer’s block, the hitch with this pitch is that I can’t pick just one sunset. The very wonder of sunsets to me is how heavenly objects can affect one’s perspective from earth in so many ways. So, until I can capture that I idea in words, I offer these pictures to illustrate my point.
A sunset through the trees made Eldon Hazlet State Recreation Area in Illinois feel lonely, especially since I was alone in the campground. But even if I had been surrounded by people, those fading sun rays, accompanied by murmurs of memories, would have sent me into solemnity.
On the other hand, a sunset through the canyon at Valley of Fire State Park in Nevada made the near-deserted area seem peaceful. Its echoing silence penetrated my core, centering my soul.
A more direct view of the sunset over the lake at Milford State Park in Kansas injected passion into a vacant space. The perceptible warmth invigorated the surroundings, prodding unseen creatures to share a song with me.
A sunrise over water at Echo Lake Campground in Colorado inspired in a contrasting yet still constructive manner, making the world seem newly fresh. It seemed to exhale breathe that cleansed me, too.
A sunset over sand instead of liquid at Dead Horse Point State Park in Utah conveys comfort in an otherwise desolate desert. A radiating, reverberating hum instigated inspiration for creation, of outputs like this blog post.
With a 180-degree turn, I could see a moonrise in the desert at Dead Horse Point State Park in Utah, which added magic to my initial muse, in the form of crackling static that sparked hope.
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