At the end of every day,
the Committee in Charge of Sunsets
sets in motion a sky show

that draws humans to look
west over an ocean to watch
our nearest star slip below

the horizon, periodically with
gorgeous lighting effects—
pinky oranges with beams

angling through clouds or
a simple, cool blue over a
horizontal tangerine ribbon.

For eons we earthlings have
been as mesmerized by the sun’s
temporary departure as by its

reappearance at what we call dawn.
I like to think that the members
of the Sunset Committee

(whose colleagues on the Sunrise
Committee and the Rainbow Coalition
also conjure eye-popping displays)

are modest souls jogging around
the heavens, not expecting or
requiring applause. But when

I have the rare pleasure of
watching the fiery ball seemingly
dip below the horizon,

words of admiration and praise
spring from my lips: “Wow!”
“Excellent work, you guys!”

“A stunner for sure!” Though
I realize that the Committee
may not hear the message—

already launching another
sky show someplace else
in the next moment

and the next and the next.
But as our blue marble
of a planet slowly rotates

away from the light,
peaceful dusk overlaying
sea and sky, I count myself

fortunate to draw breath
and again bear witness to
another everyday miracle.