Page 40 - WTP Vol. IX #10

Corinne Demas
33
The Donkeys Hear the Sunset
The sun is sinking behind
the snow-covered hillside. Rosy colors smear the sky.
The donkeys, dichromatic, perceive only greys and greens. They do not see the sunset
but hear it, instead.
The hairs on their commodious ears flicker with observation:
the high pitched pinks
the sonorous purples
the strident reds.
In minutes, the sunset’s over. The sky remembers briefly then goes cold.
In the darkness
all sight is homeless. The donkeys listen to what cannot be heard.