"Song at Sunset" by Walt Whitman fits with this afternoon's ride and the photo I took near the end of the striking gray sky above Camelback Mountain, particularly the illustrious section:
Illustrious what we name space, sphere of unnumber'd spirits,
Illustrious the mystery of motion in all beings, even the tiniest insect,
Illustrious the attribute of speech, the senses, the body,
Illustrious the passing light--illustrious the pale reflection on
the new moon in the western sky,
Illustrious whatever I see or hear or touch, to the last.
What's he chanting on about? Checking Webster's for "illustrious", we have both "very distinguised" and def 2obs a: "shining brightly with light". I don't know if anyone can be as bright and full of song as Uncle Walt is about this sunset, but able to look at that crazy graylit sky and see no fault? Able to imagine a large, bearded poet singing to it at the top of his voice? Able to step into the spirit which believes that seen in a certain light, everything, even the last particle, in the universe is amazing? For a few moments, on a bike ride, between work calls and household tasks, yes I was. Get up. Go ride.