Winter Evening
This time of day is almost always a little sad for me. Everything seems to hold on to the light just before evenfall. Just before the sun sinks for the night. I walk through the garden touching the husks of sunflowers, brittle lilac branches and places where my footprints have solidified into ice. The rasping shudders of dry oat grass mix with a chickadee's call. I look for the tiny black-masked bird - there it is - sheltering in the dense blue branches of our spruce tree; The colors are fading fast in the dying light. I want to catch and hold on to this gold forever.
But I know to let it go...
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