Poet's Winter Nights

There's a cold sunset,
Turquoise and orange,
Amidst winter skies,
A pearly white,
That I imagine sometimes,
It's clear as day,
Even though that, too, fades away,
With the orange and summer-like blue.

One thing I'll always remember that's true,
Virginia's sunsets are clear as can be,
So I'll write this poetry,
Beneath a night lit oak tree,
Where blue and orange,
Water and fire,
Liquify into another type of desire.