the green present in sunsets in smoky areas

it’s present in the skies, my dear,
an endless hue of blessings, there,
wafting, wispy, through the air,
as fires galvanise the fleeing hundreds,
as air populates the thousands,
as mem’ries regulate the years,
so does it exist at dusk,
when the air is tainted by reverie,
it warms me. and I shall never see it.
I cannot see it. my eyes were not well made.
genetics, I suppose.
proteins never coalesced
that I never knew I’d need.

but it is there, my dear.
an endless hue of blessings.
tumbling, swirling, spiralling, ever upwards,
to a boundary unseen,
until its form dissipates upon that
earthly, beloved line.