Fading Light
And the day is near over now. The light has faded, and the time is short. Everything that has ever been done has been done today, and tomorrow is anybody’s guess.
We’ve built the fire and cooked our dinner in aluminum pots, our hands blackened by dirt and ash, the seasonings of our food. Beers have been cracked, but not finished yet. The wind has now died and been laid to rest.
We have high hopes for tomorrow.
