the witching hour ends before my very eyes.

the stone of the steeple
is brighter somehow at dusk
when I can barely see the sun;
just the colors it leaves behind
across a darkening blue
sky
and the trees
they are suddenly full
disoriented leaves
lurching
one way and the next
and the backdrop from this 4th floor window
seems like a canvas-
and when I take a moment to look up
it all just catches-
but it's not white,
somehow more brilliant
as the clock moves closer and closer to nine
and the sun has passed
and its message
is no longer
visible.
it sounds like a storm is coming?