Two boats. Moored at the shore. Waiting.
The sun is going down behind the mountains. The sky is on fire. Quietly. No noise.
The water holds the light. Lets it sit there. Doesn't ask for it back.
The boats are old. The paint is peeling. Nobody seems to mind.
Wind? A little. Enough to move the grass. Not enough to move me.
The sun touches the ridge. Then it's gone. The sky keeps the color anyway. Stubborn.
Clouds stretch long across the blue. Like something pulled. Like taffy. Like smoke from a campfire far away.
Somebody left these boats here. Years ago, maybe. Doesn't matter now. They're part of the shoreline. Like the reeds. Like the stones.
I stand here. I don't move. The light does all the work.
Later, it will be dark. The boats will still be here. So will the mountains.
That's enough. That's the whole picture. The light lasts one more minute. I let it. Then I go home. The boats stay. Good night, boats. Good night. #goldenhour #boats #shore #quiet
