Walking Home

As is so often the case, it was only me at my own side, constant companion.

Eyes on the next bend in the road, waving mosquitoes away unsuccessfully, rounded stones half-buried in the ground pushing at my feet through the soles of my shoes.

The light softens now.

Cloud-shadows of evening begin to lick the hills and valleys, entreating this corner of the world not to sleep.

Instead, these children of the stars implore us to burn candles, and pay attention far into the night.

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