Just A Thing

Was it the swift southerly wind that swept

up the narrow entrance to the harbour

and cleared the mid-day heat from the hills

dragged the tiresome humidity from the air?

 

Or was it the last fingers of golden dusk

that crept up longitudinal valleys

and rendered the colours all to charcoal

gave way to the night’s deep inky hues?

 

Or perhaps inevitable evening’s sighs

transition from harsh bright yellow to twilight

as we stood upon the waterfront

while the ocean turned to obsidian?

 

Was it the coarse cries of returning gulls

the footsteps of a well weathered commute

that left you dumbfounded and speechless

when I asked you that important thing?