The ground feels soft and springy under my bare feet and the pinkish, bobble-headed clover tickles that tender place in my arch. I’m careful where I step, mindful of the honeybees. The last bits of daylight eke over the edge of the horizon and I feel the temperature drop, the damp of dew settling in for the night.
I am walking the dog around the house, and this in-between hour with its amber light reminds me of when I was little and my sister insisted she heard two rabbits speaking to each other in the fading light of evening. My brothers and I knew this hour held magic and never doubted her. Now, as I round the corner of the house, I eye a long-eared cottontail dubiously. The dog keeps walking, oblivious to the trespasser’s presence.
We trace the warm brick of this place we live in and my mind is slipping back into checklists and chores when, suddenly, nightfall is announced with flashing lights. I blink into the rhododendron, squint my eyes in the dim light.
Hey! I’m sharing an artist date over at Tweetspeak Poetry today. Will you join me for the rest of this luminescent account?