Daylighting

The shadows, brushed-out over the snow, are cool lavender: sharp-edged. A cat the color of coal is sitting at the window listening to the birds. Everything else is quiet this Friday morning.

My eyes are tired.

The day has lost its shadows and I am slightly a-jitter from the coffee. Sleepiness is a rumor being whispered about in the background.

I wish I was lying on a blanket on the beach, absorbing warmth like a lizard.

The light doesn't seem exhausted, merely faded thin. Worn by an accumulation of moments, perhaps, to an unchanging state. No focal point.

Just about two hours until sunset and I sort of feel like that, too. Sinking down with the day.

Still no shadows (though the snow is getting whiter as the sky goes dim). Time seems disconnected. Stopped like rush hour traffic.

Usually, I feel relief at Friday's arrival. But today I just feel...motionless.

And tired.

Sunset: 6:15 PM