Reset Forty-Four, Day Fourteen
Sep. 26th, 2022 05:30 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rejectomorphSunday afternoon I woke up to realize that my sun clock is back. The sun has gotten low enough in the afternoon sky to shine on the lower part of the blinds, which face a bit west of south, and the security light fixture hanging from the eaves casts a shadow that moves from west to east as the sun passes in the opposite direction. It probably began working several days ago but I failed to notice it, and seeing it Sunday pleased me so much that I forgot to be sad at waking up yet again.
The days still bring the feeling of summer, but nights now speak softly of autumn. There is a distinct crispness to the air and to the sound of the leaves that slowly dry as they rustle in the night breezes. A fading is underway, and at the same time a deepening, in the ambiguity of transition. The moon has gone missing tonight, and today it will be a hidden ghost haunting the sun. I feel I might dissolve in this vagueness. Autumn, make haste. We languish in uncertainty.
The days still bring the feeling of summer, but nights now speak softly of autumn. There is a distinct crispness to the air and to the sound of the leaves that slowly dry as they rustle in the night breezes. A fading is underway, and at the same time a deepening, in the ambiguity of transition. The moon has gone missing tonight, and today it will be a hidden ghost haunting the sun. I feel I might dissolve in this vagueness. Autumn, make haste. We languish in uncertainty.
