Is a sunset full of pinks, purples, oranges and yellows the result of angels ruffling their wings through the air as it cools for night?
No matter how low my mood may be when I see a sunset full of such colour, such celestial joie de vivre, my spirits lift like tiny birds windsurfing on zephyrs.
It is like fairy floss streaked with syrup.
It is like a cashmere blanket from an exotic land full of spice and whimsy.
It is a finger painting made by a child who cares only about the glorious.
It is the sky tie-dyed for a carnival.
If laughter were an image instead of a sound it would be a sunset.
If tears of joy could be caught in glass vials they would be the colour of a sunset.
When I see a sunset such as this I am glad to be alive. I feel that the world still holds the possibilities many of us carry in our if dreams came true baskets.
When I see a sunset like this it is like being close enough to clasp the silken hands of the gods.
* Image by The Butterfly Catcher at DeviantART.