Walking at Sunset

“Throwing Up Their Hands at Nightfall” by Sondra Sula

I normally walk in the morning, if pressed, the afternoon. But I rarely walk at sunset.

The light at the end of the day has a different quality to it, usually more yellow or pink, and slanted dramatically to create long shadows opposite the sun. Tree limbs, when backlit, can take on a wild, flailing look, as if they are throwing up their hands at nightfall, unable to stop its progression.

“Creek Snake” by Sondra Sula

A small creek runs behind our house that can trickle or tumble depending on the amount of rain or snow accumulation. At dusk it changes to a shimmering snake flecked with gold and purplish scales. Because leaves have dropped to the ground and only twiggy branches remain, I see farther up towards the snake’s mouth where it gobbles up the forest.

Empty nests of birds and squirrels are obvious now, silhouetted against coral clouds. I know the birds have gone, but I imagine squirrels curled inside smooth curves of brown oak leaves, made soft by repeated naps.

God has created a system in which the winding down process for the night is tinged with beauty. We are given a painterly canvas of sky to remember our small place in the world, a lullaby, sung by nature, to gently hum us to sleep. Look, listen and enjoy the night to come.

“Curling in Their Nests” by Sondra Sula