At Day's End

At day’s end, the sky turned orange and pink and white.

I watch it, for an hour or so it lingered,

The sun set, the sky was somber blue,

The moon took its place,

A pale and sickly counterfeit,

Like a coyote that comes

To feed on what remains

Of the wolf’s kill.

Still I find some beauty,

Some morbid and sickly beauty.