Waking with dusk
I got home and felt, sincerely, like my day was just beginning. Not because I hold late hours, but for the following reasons. When I work, it is time that never happens. Almost everyone at my job is very nice, but none show themselves to be very interesting. No real sparks of... well, anything. I come home, then, sweat-dripped and alive, and I feel myself to be just waking up. And I assume the world must be just waking up with me.
So I sit here now, in my room, at my laptop, with my eyes trained on that very particular pale green that comes only with the budding of trees. The window I am looking through is screened, but soon that divider too will be removed, and I will se the world awaking again, while the sun tries to slip out, sending it off into another few hours sleep.
In the end, then, I was right. The world is pushing and spreading itself back into wakefulness as I sit here tap tapping, and it will be tonight under moonlight, and tomorrow at dawn, and so tomorrow when we find ourselves lifted to sunset again.
I'm going to go sit on the stoop. Maybe I'll make a new friend.
So I sit here now, in my room, at my laptop, with my eyes trained on that very particular pale green that comes only with the budding of trees. The window I am looking through is screened, but soon that divider too will be removed, and I will se the world awaking again, while the sun tries to slip out, sending it off into another few hours sleep.
In the end, then, I was right. The world is pushing and spreading itself back into wakefulness as I sit here tap tapping, and it will be tonight under moonlight, and tomorrow at dawn, and so tomorrow when we find ourselves lifted to sunset again.
I'm going to go sit on the stoop. Maybe I'll make a new friend.