DUSK AND NIGHT

In the dusk the town is not bad. It cools off a few degrees and some wind comes from somewhere and dances ‘round. The electrical lights click on soon enough, and the dusk learns how to be night. The hard edges disappear for the most part, and happy people with energetic gaits walk as do dogs, and somewhere in the forest it is liked to be thought, the animals prance around a bit, cool, relaxed. Maybe there are even spirits, forests devas and sprites. The rain is far away, for now, for then. And so it goes. Cars whistle past. The lights from the trucks near the highways are white but some are also yellow and orange and green. Several decades before, we drove through Eastern states, yes, in big Buicks, and there were places where they sold fireworks, and later, we saw many interesting things and friends and family. Night there was even better, especially once the ocean was reached. The salt air, the sound of the lapping waves, the vision of the whitecaps atop the sea reaching up each one to the air, and perhaps to something else. Ya, but the dusk and the night that is followed is okay everywhere it is supposed.


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