A cool breeze touched softly
upon my face. Much earlier,
the sun had tumbled out-of-sight
leaving pink-red clouds
which promised the silhouetted
trees a warmer tomorrow—
a day without wind.
Quietness settled comfortably
about the mountains.
Newly awakened flowers
perfumed the evening
with their presence.
Their colors, tomorrow,
in the sunlight
would become
the artist’s pastel paints.
I chose to be content
with this fair evening
in April, if only
the moment would
last long enough
for me to savor
its sublimity.

© 2014 Freeda Baker Nichols