I walked this lane days ago, under pink clouds against blue, their edges brilliant, as if the door to heaven had been left open--just a crack.
It was an image too perfect. Of a full moon rising while, still, the sun crept low.
And, as too often is the case, I without my camera, could not capture it.
Day after day, I returned to the spot.
But perfect skies had moved on.
A reminder that even this day, with its tumbling gray heaviness, is like no other.
And I must capture it while I can.
The End of Ezra
16 hours ago