By: Darrelyn L. Tutt

23° beautiful.
A deep throbbing, bruised blue sky sets off an emblazened orange helium sun working hard to lay her head down at day's end. A fire glow of red, copper, and burnt orange "halo" and surround her, making tranquil her ancient, fading, golden head.
The sun bows quiet and dips low, a healthy after-glow, receding into a line of trees.
I watch her fade and transition from circle, to half-circle, and then finally slivered disk; fading slowly and then gone.
I feel the silent stillness of cold and the icy fire surrounding. Listen to the quiet sounds of dark in dimlit cold. Smell the sharp contrast of earth and sky dividing.
Trace the cold bark intersecting naked finger with naked tree.
Fallen leaves, a fading carpet for my feet.
It's 23° beautiful ...
 An evening soliloquy
I was chastened for walking in the 23° cold but forgiven by a landscape that invited me in. Senses were arrested and soul came alive. There's beauty in the cold ... and clarity of soul.
A swollen blue soul dipping low with words beneath the treeline. Enflamed thoughts ablaze in copper and golden hue. Wind tears falling on cherry cheeks and soul resigning.
Another day, another eve ...
And thoughts of you.
23° beautiful.
" ... and then, I have nature and art and poetry, and if that is not enough, what is enough?"
-Vincent van Gogh