There is something so precious about those last warm rays of sun on a gift of a spring day
Like stolen pleasures when you should be bowing your head to the oncoming night
Don't you know it's the evening, and all the right and proper rituals should be observed
There is supper to be made and cleared, and baths to take and beds to make, curtains to be drawn and stories to be read. What are you doing here?
Well today is a gift, and we are showing it our gratitude.
What use is warm evening sunshine if you don't bask in it?
The night will come and we will eat toast, and bath tomorrow, and read stories in bed with crumbs on our faces and soil between our toes.
And the joyous evening sun will make giants of us, and our long shadows.