Everything was glowing.
A golden light cast
through the trees,
peeking around the clouds;
gilding leaves, grass,
the very air.
THIS is the gloaming.
Late October,
the sun low,
the air soft,
the breeze blowing through my graying, wild hair.
Red, yellow, russet, orange leaves,
shimmering against the fading blue sky.
Fallen dried leaves dancing,
scraping across the pavement.
I wanted to share the beauty,
but I was alone.
I wanted to bottle it,
for later,
when I needed it.
