The "Green Flash"

“The Green Flash”

it’s the stuff of urban legend, one I had to doubt,
because in a hundred lifetimes on the ocean, and
near as many sunsets, none made to forget, I never
saw the sun turn the color, green, at least, not yet.

green is so, damn, well, green, and everywhere it seems
shades near hundreds mark the landscape, while I walk
and marvel at the purple of the mountains just above me,
and the green to yellow grass that matts beneath my feet.

then comes ocean's horizon and a vision full of blues,
seems not as many iterations but the colors run as deep,
cobalt and indigo, sapphire and steel, beneath a powder blue,
the surface laid with diamonds, the water ever changing hue.

late come clouds, hugging the horizon, layers of crimson,
orange, and gold, sunset’s herald, one of millions, different
as each soul in billions, but for now the green is only in the
shallows rising, till in front of me, it falls in white, to foam.

then the yellow sun rests edge on water, the clouds add
violet, pink, and red, left and right, the colors rouse, the
sun breathes in and out and in again, and then a flash,
clouds aflame, the sun turns a brilliant turquoise green.

fire does not consume it, descent held in suspension, a cat’s
eye in dilation, it flashes white, only to flash again, a luminant
emerald green. now it lingers, till rimmed in gold and amber,
one sun in trillions, it vanishes beyond the lavender blue sea.