Petitcodiac Sunset

The sun has set, and some clouds move in from the west, moving east, driven by wind.  As the void in the sky darkens to a dusky navy blue fading to black, the clouds take on an orange tinge.  Jobe thinks to himself that it must be taking in the sunset colours of Thunder Bay or someplace west of him, of them, someplace west of Moncton and New Brunswick, the Maritimes.

The curve of the Earth has the air take on the palette of whatever particulates can stain the atmosphere in the western cusp of its surge of nightfall, and then casts the colours into the Petitcodiac skies, bringing a peachy sheen to the approaching clouds, which may bring thunder or may bring rain, but they float eastward with the insistence of the wind while the spin of the globe swings ever westward; the prevailing fugue, the genuine turn.