2.5

Today was the first time in a month I saw something beautiful. I was walking along Ambs drive in the cold after-rain, wearing one jacket and carrying another. My shoes made a consistent wet rubber noise on the new concrete with every step. And I looked up. There, in front of me, across two neighborhoods, a highway and a train track, the sun shot sideways across hills of rippled green. No houses, no trees, just grass and the dirt underneath, but the old golden light of a near-ended day carved crowns of the lonely ridge above me. Beauty is always so far away here, just at the edge of sight or further, always curtailed by buildings and con-trails. I miss my moonlit nights of high fervor.