Sometime between 11 AM and 2 PM on an early to mid August day when sunshine illuminates a brilliant blue sky or skirts around scattered clouds, the change is suddenly irrefutable. Although I acknowledge, "The light has changed", I don't have words to describe what this means, it simply is. Today was that day; August 10, punctuated by bright sky and plenty of warmth from a summer sun. I walked from the hospital to my car in early afternoon and recognized the return of a familiar light, a light that despite its brilliance beckons the coming of autumn days, whipping winds, low hanging grey clouds and chill.
There's something about the shadows that change as well. This is not a high noon, peak- of- summer light. Softer? Blurred a bit? Cooler? Smudgy? I can't quite get there with my words but accept that muteness comes when nature reminds us once again that we are mere observers of this mystery and magic.Is this experience an Ars Poetica in another "light"?
Your words are so specific and descriptive that each post creates a picture, not to limit but to present possibilities. Poetry in prose.
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