Fireflies and sunset

Having had some time in a city this afternoon, I needed to play hookie at home tonight.

Yes, I have work to do -- a book review to write (once I finish the book), and a sermon for Sunday morning.

But this week has been intense -- a welter of emotions, projections, fantasies. The sky and the grass, the children playing baseball by the school and the wildflowers waist high by the side of the road, called me, and I didn't even want to resist.

A couple walked by me as I strode, the wife chatting animatedly to her husband (I assume it was her husband, but I suppose he could have been her lover -- or her cousin). Halfway down the hill under the dusky old trees, I broke into a run. I couldn't help myself.

Down by Springton, the creek shone clear, the light of the sunset shining on the farm fields. Isn't it fascinating how dusk can sometimes echo sunrise?

Up I jogged past the house we thought we might purchase, past the one store we have in town, between the two Victorian houses in the village, the graveyard, the park -- the children playing tennis as the summer light disappeared for the night. A deer and I had a staring contest -- I am not always sure that they are going to cede the path to us.

Then down our lane to the house. Watering the plants outside, I took a moment to be grateful for this knowing -- beyond words.

Then inside -- renewed.