Sky

Who can regret the chill of the wind and the smell of the air in the spring when the sun sets? I love it when the heavens bleeds crimson with splashes of leftover daylight prophesying hints of yellow like screaming oracles; burnt orange clouds cementing inside the belly of the sky. The way that birds defy the darkness to find refuge in the path of light, soaring on the backs of colors like they were some tangible thing and beige highlights swinging low like sweet chariots. Even the wind rejoices in the shadows of the rest of the sunlight bouncing off the concrete, hoping to capture as much of its essence as possible before it retires into its chamber. Whether you’re driving home from work or sitting on the front porch mesmerized by the cool wind, the silence of nightfall and the sky, it’s the little things that bring calm. Let it fill your empty. Turn your distress into dancing, solemn into singing. Good night.

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