Golden Hour
A walk home at dusk in midsummer.
The sun had set but the sand still held its light; slick with liquid gold.
The lake was bathwater warm. The waves carried in them the heat of the day.
Silver lace lapping gently at the shore and tickling my bare toes.
It warmed my body from the soles of my feet to the crown of my head, filling me with sparkling yellow calm.
Bright, flaxen ribbons wrapping around my heart. They connected me simultaneously back into the earth and out into the universe.
A metallic world, but not in the way metal can be cold. Rather, in the way that metal can melt and drip with satisfying thickness and weight.
Yes, the sun had set but proof of its existence still lingered in everything.
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