We didn't choose it.
The light, gathering slowly for hours
Above the long riverway,
Leaned over, at first growing paler
And sang itself to us
Until we had to listen.
Then it compelled us to answer, to speak of it.
"Coral color," gentle on the underside of blue clouds fracturing.
"And rose," brightening as those broken clouds became darker.
"Is there a name for that redness beginning?"
"Garnet. Carmine. Fire."
"Yes. Yes. Those colors."
The it took hold of us.
Wide layers of unshaken light crossed the west
Green-gilding the air, till its grave music
Undid us, and we fell silent.
For miles behind, it was already night.
Then around us, night, and night ahead of us.
At last we could no longer see each other.
The light had let go.