That Precise Moment

This evening I was outside. A calm Spring day. Fading light. I noticed the color, the temperature, the birds, the sky. It is evening this time.

Last Fall it was the light. The Light.

I often started out in the mornings in the dark. Sometimes damp and crisp. More often than not the mornings I ventured out early were pitch dark. The dark before the dawn dark. The time of day when everything is at rest. Night is even sleeping at that point.

And then I could see-feel my feet. The air began to have light. The birds would begin to cheep. The landscape would start to expose texture and depth. The stars would fade and everything else woke up. I could hear proud roosters for miles. Voices would begin to carry. Lambs would begin to bleat. And I inhaled it all. I let it come to me. Day after day.

And today, although it was evening, I was transported once again.