Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

One either expects the sun, when it touches the tip of that tree, to burst, or to flattened out with its own weight and then rebound into the air.When it finally touches the horizon, the glow has vanished. Seeming so leisurely before, it now slips down rapidly. As the last tip disappears, the wind which seemed to have lulled in this crisis, comes anew across the land and seems like my own exhaled breath which I had bated.(HT)The yellow afterglow is still full & strong