Through tall grass, knee-deep and wild,
The air grows thick with evening's breath.
A pink sun melts across the field,
Turning each blade to copper thread.

The breeze bends stalks in gentle waves,
While insects hum their evening song.
Time slows in this forgotten patch,
Where minutes stretch and linger long.

The heat still clings to earth below,
As day releases its warm hold.
Pink light seeps through each empty space,
Turning the ordinary to gold.