Who can regret the wind’s chill and the smell of the air in the spring when the sun sets? I love it when the heavens bleed crimson with splashes of leftover daylight prophesying hints of yellow like screaming oracles; burnt orange clouds cementing inside the belly of the sky. I love the way 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 how beige highlights swing low like sweet chariots. Even the wind rejoices in the sunlight’s shadows bouncing off the concrete. It hopes 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 brisk 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.
The PBS Blog 