Monday, September 15, 2025, 46.0*, 88% RH, 0554
Turning up her flame ever so slowly, without making a sound, the pale peach of dawn first glimpsed through leaves, outlines trunks, the curve of the stream. A piece of moon oversees.
The three step through darkness inspecting chairs placed in their fenced-in domain triggering solar lights to shine on them. Too early for traffic, for birds, only footfalls on the deck are heard.
Last night in the clouds a man, face weathered by years smiling, long knit cap trailing behind. Perhaps he lived here; perhaps a teacher; perhaps a friend.
Candles in windows flare waiting for Soleil to extinguish their flame. She wanders through morning creating iridescent leaves.
Often, we sleep through the beginning, seldom ready for the end.
Photo: LJ Austin