Atlanta, tonight

From here, in Atlanta, the sky is amazing. At 9:30, daylight lingers in pieces of the sky. Between voluptuous clouds the shade of eggplant, so beguiled by the vision of the night, lurks a stubborn light. Like the flesh of a peach, a ripe and juicy peach, it stays. Perhaps it too wishes to view. 

The moon is high and bright, the halo surrounding it mimics the rays of the sun. Moonshine. The clouds near the moon are more jagged and they itch to bring an eery slant to this powerful glow. Not to be confused with a cheerful and direct sun, the shrouded moon remains mysterious and capable. The moon knows something. 

The twilight blue subtly merges into a deep indigo and those ever so attentive clouds have a rage about them. They have deep bellies that hang low with a rooted purple. As well, they look to be a delicious bite.

It's an emotional sky that has just put up an enormous fight between a muse of a moonshine and a heroic sunlight.