I was walking backerds down the road, shooting as I went. My favorite color scheme: cerulean on cream.
I was all over that underlit belly of the big cloud.
I thought we could make it to one last promontory before the show was over. I caught my shadow hustling along, agog at the fire in the grass, the clouds pouring from it like prairie smoke. Only nothing was on fire but my lungs.
We hustled through a holler and climbed the last hill.
Things were changing quickly to the west.
Alas, things were beginning to fade to the east. But oh, they were fading beautifully, like old baby clothes.
While to the west, sunfire combed through winterbare trees and melted the sky.
We got to the Toothless Lady and I paused to shoot her, the white slip still hanging from her gum, the last lit clouds drifting over toward nightfall.