plane divides the atmosphere,
sharp orange thread, dissolving at its tail,
Cutting through morning's avenging beauty, in regards to the night.
shadow is drawn at the shepherd's feet.
He's alone, contemplating this daily firework,
The sleeping village beneath him,
And god above (there's god above him) demonstrating.
(Pink, purple, yellow and, it's all red blue green).
The mountain's edges heat up, offering a burning red contour,
Like a red carpet for the advent of the sun.

This has been a pleasure, he says.
(Are you listening? You're not listening.)