Sunsets follows the sky through a whole evening, from the first spill of colour to the quiet that comes after. The speaker begins with bright, almost messy images: gold "in gloops," then reds, oranges, magenta and purple that look like flames dancing on the horizon. When night arrives, it slips in so gently that the stars seem to appear all at once, and the speaker's "Aren't they wonderous" sounds like a small gasp of delight.
The middle section changes pace. The short, stacked lines about rain clouds, thunderstorms, smoke-grey and cool wind slow everything down until the single word "Peace" settles it. The poem ends on a glowing orange orb, and the final line makes the moment personal: the sight feels like "a blinding secret trusted just to me." Overall the mood is awed, calm and a little intimate, as if the speaker is quietly sharing a private moment with the sky.