How in the sunset the gnats fly scattered like daytime fireflies and dust fluttering like pale dots in the air. And birds, you look to see where specifically they are in the trees. The grass along these houses are a gold green carpet, with threads of spiderwebs, single strands, like finest strings that reflect the tiniest lines of light. And as you walk with your back to the sun you see your shadow 30 feet stretch with sharp black edges, an undefined flat shape. The fruits from this tree above hang in furry brown orbs as you observe a bird dart its head left and right before it shoots to another tree. What bird is it? What is its name? A robin. Orange chest. Black head. Only for a moment it is here and moments after, disappears never for you to see again.
Sad feeling, a somberly blank look on the face, to see the gold disk above slowly creep knowing it will be the last light of the day. It may be the last time you get to see it. Tomorrow, you're sure it will come again. Maybe not. The clouds may obscure it. They are not well-defined. They bleed and dissolve above in white, gray, dark grays, thicker in some areas, thinner in others. High, large, spread far and laid on the horizon, as you look around.
Tiny insect. It is the size of a grain of rice. Does it too know what size is? For its short life of mere days this one branch, tree, square meter of land is its home and grave. Whereas we walk, gander, wonder, what else is there out there, no more bound to this one ground than water is to the earth?
So finally, the edge of darkness begins. Street lights illuminate soon. Blue still stretches above yet in such short time it will turn to black. And as you walk into the ever growing shadow of the horizon your own shadow too fades into it like it walks into the deepest, darkest waters. Now you know all has been done and it is time to go home.
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