Winding Down of the Day

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cloudy coast

For the past hour I’ve been watching light dimming down outside, erasing the landscape in layers. Dove grey transitions to smoke, to slate, then to a soft charcoal. The mist is rolling in, covering everything in damp salty kisses.

The sky is a co-conspirator in this disappearing act, sinking into deep dusky blues until it finally smothers the trees with a heavy black blanket. The moon won’t make an appearance for several hours yet. If there are stars they are obscured by clouds.

The birds that filled my afternoon with song are silent, however, the volume of the ocean has turned up suddenly. By 6:05PM the view from the deck is decidedly dark, pitch black if it weren’t for two distant windows, glowing cozy beacons. I have been wondering who lives there. I never see anyone, only the lights.

The house is warm enough that I am comfortable with a cup of tea and a sweater. There are cats curled or sprawled out in their various happy places. I am insulated and isolated. The quiet of this place peels away all sense of time. There is only the changing light and color of sea and sky. My clock is the song, rhythm and silence of nature.

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