It was just beginning to get dark, a time once known as the children's hour. The shadows had a certain skittishness about them that occurs every other Tuesday or so -- especially at the end of September -- especially when the children weave in and out of them, on their way home to supper. I watched from across the street -- the shadows, the children, the dimming of light.
© 2011 Barbara Moore, Co-editor, Spiracle
2 comments:
An ancient ritual, the end of day, the children skipping from play -- this lovely small meditation flickers with old candlelight and rosy twilight; the crack of fall and chill of evening pulsing into my read. I love these vignettes of yours; the sharing of what is seen that harks to past; creating a tether to another time and those who populated these pictures then. Altogether sweet; a nostalgia for the season.
I love how the mellowing shadows of a setting sun could nudge one to a quite down-home recollection - of children past their play time scurrying back to their respective homes - as if to remind us that always the Child must journey back home at the end of the day.
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