BURNING EMBERS

I’ve gone out to sit in the park before sunset. Feels like it might be a good one tonight - clear blue sky, bright falling sun, long shadows already, and the birds are singing.

I miss these moments. It occurs to me that I used to do a lot more of this - this dreaming, listening, dwelling in the sunlit afternoon of a quiet park. It is admittedly, a luxury. My world moves at a different pace these days.

I wonder whether I’ve become afraid of these moments. It is possible, isn’t it, to live in such a way that you busily paper over the truth. Daunting then to remember the real person that’s underneath, to uncover in a rare, lucid moment - that reality, that raw human who doesn’t have to be anything other than his or her self. It’s confrontational to face the real you sometimes.

There are wisps of cloud. I’m hoping that as the sun sinks lower behind the trees, they’ll catch fire with colour, lit like tinder from burning embers. I’ll probably have gone in by then though.

I’ll probably have gone in.