the act of disappearing after streaking through

I see the traces in the sky
from my window here, one spider dangling.
Only traces of orange-rosé, flashing across blue hues,
not ready to disappear, please,
don't abandon me here.  Don't leave yet.

Blurred edges. February 2022, Strasbourg. ©le_chah_errant.

First, we excuse ourselves for this poor attempt at a photo from the last hour. Try as we may, those colors never want to show on the lenses (not like in 2020, during the first quarantine).

Second, enjoy these words freshly written today in a matter of minutes (staring out the window does that to us). We’re not sure what we’re doing here so let us know.

Thirdly if you missed our last January post, you can find it here. ❤️