Yet another sunset poem this time. The doodle shows a field. There are some sheep at the top, with instructions on how to draw them, but they look like clouds to me.
Sunset on the African Plains
The alchemy of sunset turns leaden clouds to gold,
Sets shadow fires among the trees as twilight takes a hold.
The plains are never silent, but now every hoot and howl,
Every shriek and roar and below, every cackle, every growl
Echoes through the world, like the cries of wandering souls,
And towards, around and through us, onward the thunder rolls.
But then the sun has gone, the clouds are black in black
And a kind of quiet falls along each darkened track.
It's a quiet filled with whispers and the rustling of grass
As beasts that hid in daylight disturb us as they pass.
And now and then a distant roar cuts off distant cries
As one creature finds a meal and another creature dies.
There is beauty in the symmetry, but a beauty fierce and raw,
That the march of day and night can only underscore.
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