The Sun Down the Street

I’ve seen sunsets behind swaying palm trees.  Beautiful.  Yet sunsets prove no less beautiful outside my suburban bedroom window.

Since the 1950s, cliché-ridden barbs have been aimed at suburban life. A suburban sunset:  a view with a sheltered mindset as the sun slides down the sky behind the utility poles, the telephone and electrical wires, beyond the gray cement slab street, the similar single-family houses with the cars and work trucks parked in the driveways. Homogenized, pasteurized and milky white.  (I’ll argue this point since suburban life includes an ethnic mixture today as the melting pot simmers and flavors blend.)

Sunsets beyond the utility wires are my favorite.  Purple and pink streaks sometimes paint the sky.  Other nights are warmer with oranges and reds.  Sometimes four or five colors riot across my skyscape.  A sunset by its nature holds the key to its beauty, and the location can’t detract from it as long as the observer chooses to look instead of hide from the light.  The word awe defines a sunset.  While a sunset can be awesome, I’ll argue that a shade of nail polish cannot.

The beauty and danger of nature can be found anywhere even in your own backyard. My window view allows me to appreciate every sunset I have left.  I do look out and prefer this narrow view.

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