I love this time of day. The evening, when the light plays her quiet games around my home.
She surprises me sometimes, when I come around a corner to find that she has been busy, illuminating, making some still and quiet, ordinary spot into something breathtaking.
My boys are out riding bikes with their Papa.
Vivaldi is weaving his tale of the Seasons.
Pots are simmering.
Wine is poured.
It is quiet and calm, for the moment.
Before young men bustle in and bring the world with them…
… full of stories and dirt, in want of dinner.
Now though, the light and I reach to each other across the table,