Sunset Musings

She wasn’t there for the clear blue water, the fine white sand, the music of crashing waves, or the solitude that the beach promised. She was there for the sunset.

Someone had once told her that sunsets were romantic. She disagreed. It had more to do with romanticism rather than being romantic. Romanticizing the colors, the silhouettes, the feeling of witnessing a natural transition. Sunset blurred the hard edges off everything, maybe that’s why.

As the sunset approached, birds were flying home, and the distant mountains stood in anticipation of the approaching darkness. The sea met the sky in a riot of red and orange.
The colors intensified as they faded. The sun promised a new hello while saying goodbye. Contrast. Quite a soul stirrer.

In that moment she wasn’t a person burdened with the expectation of living a great life, but someone full of wonder, still of belief that magic existed. She wasn’t a person surrounded by walls a thousand feet high. but someone with a wild spirit and an open heart. Everything and everyone she didn’t need, she let go with the dying sun.

Her life wasn’t in the number of people she had loved. Her life wasn’t in the number of places she had called home. Her life was in the number of sunsets she had paused to appreciate. And damn, what a wonderful life it was.

Rain On Me

In the middle of a scorching Indian summer, all I can do is fantasize about monsoon.


The earthy, damp smell

Tickled her nose

The naughty little raindrops

Slid gently down her back

A promise of things to come . . .

The clouds roared with desire

The thunder screamed with urgency

And the final outburst

That drenched everything in pleasure

Nature had never been sexier . . .