North
The last rays touch the snowy waste,
fierce flames of fiery red and gold
gleam and dance over frozen space,
ice burning with a freezing heat.
A hidden life emerges
at the last gasp of a dying day.
White, bloodless hills –
the landscape’s corpse-
burn in the blaze
of the setting sun.
A red rimmed eye
almost closed,
sinks fast
below
a cloud-pillowed
horizon.
SOUTH
In the seductive warmth
of a summer evening,
empty deckchairs
dot the beach.
In seaside bars
red wine darkens,
matures, in the crimson
of the setting sun.
A golden path
across the sea
draws the eye
to the heart
of the fading light,
a chance to walk
on water into
the source of life.
Children put the final touches
to doomed castles of dreams
as the blood tipped waves,
with hungry mouths,
threaten assault.
EAST
In the east the stuff of dreams
is recreated as the light fades.
The iconic summit of Mount Fuji
reflects the last embers
of a darkening world.
Behind the Taj,
white tomb of love,
red flames threaten
as cold marble burns.
In Singapore evening fireworks
sparkle for a changing crowd-
British ladies sipping tea
on immaculate lawns,
Japanese troops
achieving the impossible,
corporations preaching
a global gospel,
the same sun
has set
on all.
WEST
The last to see the dying sun.
Already in the East the day is breaking.
Here, in city bars, commuters enjoy
a leisurely first glass.
Long, orange rays rest
on chrome bars and café tables
while in shadowy corners,
lovers whisper.
Kids kick the last ball
as long as light still glimmers.
Out in vast, open spaces,
cattle are on the day’s last drive.
Clouds of dust speckle and freckle
the golden light, as hooves pound
the homeward trail.
On Californian beaches,
surfers celebrate the day’s last ride.
The surf sparkles
with a hundred rainbows,
tongues of foam lick up
a darkening beach.
On a fading horizon
the sun is no more than
a red brush stroke,
before night
floods
the sky.