It’s 4:10. The sun’s light is dipping into a vibrant gold, soft yet vibrant. Five days ago, this hue painted the landscape, and I watched and waited for a bus ride to home. I remember the waiting and the color, how it glinted off car windshields and made even the parking lot appear momentarily like a tropical fruit medley, something I would eagerly taste.
On some days, this is the hour before sunset. A rustle of branches not yet budding. Patches of snow from a weekend snow. Thin dabs of clouds drifting as if there were lily pads for the sky. And the relative arc of the nearby star.
The sun! The sunlight! I could drink it a thousand times again and it would still cast its rays on the land on a few days like today. It’s shining a peace for a moment, a taste full and quenching. I don’t know if I’ll ever paint a hue quite like it, but desire demands the effort.
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