Poetry: The Pin Drop

Before you laid the most beautiful sunset of your short life. Clear. Crisp. Pristine. All nature had to offer. Bright yellows, deep reds, and in the recesses, bruise-like purples. And in this fleeting moment, you pause to take it all in. The beauty. The fresh air. The air was still. You take notice. There are no birds chirping. No traffic. All was still, and all was quiet. You could hear a pin drop. For a moment, you think you did. And then, just shying from the corner of your eye, you saw the pin drop. A sun rose in the East, even though the day was done.