At that time of
day it is strong and weighs down heavily upon almost all places. The congestion
and traffic of a large city and a once small rural area all receive it as it
shines off plates, buildings in the making, glass, and a thousand other
artifacts. The flowers of the fields are rising, as their chance has come, and
they do not want to be tardy or truant. The dark bridges, - shaded, faded,
receive it also and many interesting shapes and figures are created as the
shadows from railings and trees are thrown here and there. Bird’s overhead,
making their way, or the old duck or loon in the water by the hedges and
inlets, by the bogs and swamps and tiny river-like things w/capillaries of water
that flow out into the earth and dissipate. It’s an interesting if hard to look
at few hours. Hard to look out for the strong and often blinding sun. The
night, more spacious, open, unhurried and non-busy, - always arrives. The
night, with its electrical lights, say a soft row of summer garden ones strewn
up out front somewhere,- welcoming the season like soft yellow lightning bugs
or a quick and quiet but sure prayer…
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