.8:32 pm.

It’s 8:32 pm and the sky is still bright and the land illuminated.
The time just before the sky turns into a warm orange/yellow color, the last burst of the day.
The crickets have started their mediative chants and the faintest scurries of attic mice can be heard. Yet, there’s still a few more moments of day.
It feels like days could last forever in May, almost June.
I wonder -
how I ever survive winter?
if I can hold onto this time month/season?
how I can forget the magic of light and late nights every year?
The days always seem longer than last, like a forgotten dream.
8:45 pm and the gray sky begins to settle in, the goodbyes made
another day
I heard Joy Harjo speak a few years ago, she said that sunset was the time to thank the day
and then let it go
the day and all its contents are gone, not to return
we can only be here
moving forward