An Ode To Sunlight

I love the way sunlight shifts throughout the day. Like a friend who came to visit, it goes away and leaves you alone with your space, a little different without it. It facilitates different feelings and atmospheres and rituals. Different ways of seeing.

I like sitting in bright, white, serene bathrooms on my own. Opening the window and breathing the breeze. There's a special gentle solitude in a place like that. Or in a a bedroom all bathed in an orange-yellow daytime light, partially held at the window by half drawn curtains where it enters in strips of translucent gold. The bedsheets break the lines and they become waves, and you see the beams and the quiet dust jostling inside them, lit up and floating like ghosts in a ballroom.

And then there's sunset in the kitchen, orange and glowing and climbing up the bowls and plates and spoons, saying goodbye, turning the top of the sky pink, and tiptoeing across the trees.

I love the way sunlight moves.


Thank you so much for your comments, especially if they include limericks about skeletons.