Golden Hour


The light is changing. Can you tell? The sun's reign in the summer sky slides ever so slowly downward.

It leaves us with deepening hues late in the day.
The light of August, feral yet fey, flickers in the hour before sunset.

The metallic high summer bowl of a sky tips over. The slant of the shadows grows. Even the white oleander captures a tawny hue.
The woods grow darker, their canopy grasping for fading light.

The bougainvillea shimmers.

The late summer luster beckons. We remember that evening walks will soon become morning walks. Not much longer now.

Stroll into the golden hour, where dreams hang within reach.

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