Summer Evening
Summer evenings are long. If you sit still, they pass a little more slowly than the day comes to its end. Your shoulders eased down, little by little. It wasn't that the evening had grown heavier, but that it had grown a little lighter. That cat, you were watching it too.
Around the time the sunset bows its head outside the evening bus window, I suddenly remember that evening. What it feels like for the shoulders to be light stays long in the memory.
The sunset you saw, might it have set even more slowly than that evening? I stayed sitting right there, feeling once more the weight of lowered shoulders.
The stream I looked down on from the apartment balcony was dragging the streetlamp light out long. The evening wind brushed over the ripples and was gone.
The way the stream drags the light along like that, something similar stays on the paths we walk too. Tonight passed quietly, like the sound of that water.