An Evening

 I like early mornings and late evenings. When sun lovingly spreads his soft light on houses big and small. Without any discrimination. Telling them ah, I know you are tired and but you need to be strong, for mortals inside are not. 

 

Next it is the turn of the clouds. Sun loves this even better. For he can play with colors here. A little bit of orange, some red and then later light lavender. He decorates and decorates these clouds, loving and cherishing them. Putting on his divine, colorful fleeting show. 

Ah! Why do poets not write about you Sun, choosing moon instead?