THE SMELL OF DUSK
The quacking of ducks in the water brings me to the window after drying the supper dishes and the red sky at sunset is breathtaking to my eyes.
As I walk to sit on the tallest rock in my freshly mown backyard, it's not the sound of the slowly paddling family of ducks or the sight of the setting sun that envelops me; it's the smell of dusk.
There's an aroma that lingers from the water in the sea and the air surrounding it that one differentiates from any other time of day or night. The salty moisture as one inhales; the smoky scent of the seaweed and the nearby wharf; the fresh clean air that freshens one's senses and allows one to breathe more deeply.
The red ball in the low sky has now touched the edge of the sea and blinds the human eye. Far up in the still-blue sky, the white vapor of a passing jet high in the Heavens, looks like a shooting arrow descending at me. A few cirrus clouds complete God's painting.
The sound of the quacking ducks dissapates as the red ball of fire becomes lower and lower but the sounds of dusk remain. One's heart is moved to such gladness and joy at being a part of this wholesome and inspiring spectacle. The sound of dusk----listen closely; it will make you, too, want to slow dance under God's masterpiece.
The quacking of ducks in the water brings me to the window after drying the supper dishes and the red sky at sunset is breathtaking to my eyes.
As I walk to sit on the tallest rock in my freshly mown backyard, it's not the sound of the slowly paddling family of ducks or the sight of the setting sun that envelops me; it's the smell of dusk.
There's an aroma that lingers from the water in the sea and the air surrounding it that one differentiates from any other time of day or night. The salty moisture as one inhales; the smoky scent of the seaweed and the nearby wharf; the fresh clean air that freshens one's senses and allows one to breathe more deeply.
The red ball in the low sky has now touched the edge of the sea and blinds the human eye. Far up in the still-blue sky, the white vapor of a passing jet high in the Heavens, looks like a shooting arrow descending at me. A few cirrus clouds complete God's painting.
The sound of the quacking ducks dissapates as the red ball of fire becomes lower and lower but the sounds of dusk remain. One's heart is moved to such gladness and joy at being a part of this wholesome and inspiring spectacle. The sound of dusk----listen closely; it will make you, too, want to slow dance under God's masterpiece.
1 comment:
Wow! What talent you have!
You make me cry, smile and
think. You have made me
see into your life, your
feelings, and your joys.
Thank you Heather.
Much love to you and Camo
Lynn
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