Tuesday, April 17, 2007

Another wait.


I walked home in the silver hour, everything a shade of blue or black or grey, everything not glowing but glown. It was neither dinner nor dessert, neither time to begin again nor time to sleep for the night. Neither light nor dark. Neither solitary nor companioned, neither settled nor slipped. What is this threshold? How long this liminality, this pause?

The dogwood and the maple face off over the house.

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