These short wide days: their beauty just stuns me.
We recently had cut down a number of trees at the edge of our yard and our landscape is so altered I gasp going past the windows.
Remember Emily Dickinson on sunset?
Here she is:
Blazing in Gold and quenching in Purple
Leaping like Leopards to the Sky
Then at the feet of the old Horizon
Laying her spotted Face to die
Stooping as low as the Otter’s Window
Touching the Roof and tinting the Barn
Kissing her Bonnet to the Meadow
And the Juggler of Day is gone