These late afternoons when the light lingers temper the end of my work day. Instead of anxiously rushing to finish up this task or that report, I find myself standing at the window looking out at the river reflecting these last bits of light. This is the time of day when those last golden rays of sunlight slant through the bare trees, and birds (and people) head home for the night. The vultures tilt and glide their way to their mountain roosts, ducks fly past in quick, small flocks, and chickadees make one last visit to the feeder (in fact, here's one now, as I type). Somehow leaving work with some remaining daylight doesn't seem so hard on one's state of mind as leaving in the pitch dark. There's still some time left to gather oneself, to do something, even if it's just looking out the window as dark settles, waiting for streetlights to come on and stars to brighten over the mountain.
Mallards fly upstream,
set down on reflected trees--
remains of the day.
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