Crepuscule

It was supposed to rain, but it didn't rain, so I went out into the garden and watered all the needy green things anyway, the sky darkening and threatening but never breaking into even a single tear.  I planted what needed to be planted, puttered about with recycling and birdseed and compost and new mail, observed the gorgeous traces left of a tragedy among the small ones, and blew bubbles instead of cigarette smoke into the dusk when I was done.  Then I looked into the sky just in time to see it softly, surely cut by a blue heron gravely beating his course homeward to the river I forget runs by here just two blocks away, a world of its own so unlike my little backyard world teeming quietly behind this crumbling stockade fence.  After he'd flown, two swallows ran curlicues against the clouds like an after-flourish, and then things were still and grey and blushing as the sun made unseen progress downward behind the cloud curtain.

Comments

[Philip]

You paint such a vivid picture of your day :-)

[Sara]

I'm glad you enjoyed it, Philip.