A Streetlight in France
There’s a single lamp glowing in the dusky early autumn twilight. I’m walking the streets of the village and the light is pink and purple, soft and tender like a caress.
The air is still warm, with that edge of freshness that fall brings. I am filled with peace; with light and hope.
It’s not quite dark enough to need the lamp yet still it shines against the darkening, deepening sky – the crisp, clean yellow edged against the indigo & cerulean.
The tree hangs heavily over the street and my calves burn from walking the steep incline of the road. Bees still steadily hum amongst the flowers, unknowing of the coming winter.
My feet move with joy, and my lips turn up in an unconscious smile.