Evening.

The rotting vomit still on the alleyway doorstep,
From two days ago.

A chill wind,
Too cold to be without a coat,
Too warm to button it.

The gently setting sun,
Basting everything in an effervescent orange.

Starlings soar chaotically,
To the breathtakingly clear azure sky.

Trees and buildings,
And the very occasional cloud,
Glow warmly.

Lost in this momentary infinity of beauty,
I am gently reminded of how little my troubles really matter,
As my bus passes me by.