trees and homes, black silhouettes

against a sky that is not yet night and shadow

too colourful to be that (just yet)

falling from dark to light, blueness transcending,

falling into green and yellow, orange marking the horizon

aeroplanes taking the place of stars,

leaves murmuring across the pavement, autumn gifts,

twinkling lights of something ours all the way over there

warm light peeking through the sparse canopies, trickling out of windows.

we have not yet gone to sleep.

this moment is a moment of small perfection.

church bells waking up somewhere near.

cars passing, muted.

small perfection.

hold onto it, for it is all we have.

It is all we are.

- a poem written on paper with a marker, as I stared out of my window. It's a beautiful view out there. I've moved houses. Moved out of the city. 

And welcome back to Snippets.