A Sunset

     I've been suffering from an extreme case of Writer's Block this past week and it's not so much that I don't have ideas, but that I don't know where to start. To get me back on track I've decided to write about the simplest thing I can right now: The sunset

     When I look out my window, the first thing I see are the shadows of houses hanging over the fence boards and the leaves dancing on the maples. It hasn't cooled down entirely from earlier today so the breeze is warm and sweet and it's gently blowing the curtains back through the screen door. I breathe in the scent of early May. The one that's only present after a warm spring afternoon, right before twilight hits and just as the birds are settling.

     From the balcony, when I look to the left I see my mountain, otherwise known as the Niagara Escarpment, illuminated with the sun's last golden light. The new leaves are bursting beautiful greens and every once and a while a still budding tree top lets you see the branches lying underneath. The blue of the sky is slowly sneaking away and changing into a lovely shade of lapis that stretches all the way across Grimsby. 

     The distant laughs of kids at the park fill my ears and I'm smiling at the thought of longer days, warmer nights and the hours of running barefoot in the grass that are soon to come. However, in all of this, the main subject of beauty is the beautiful sunset to my right. The sun's just going down and the horizon is highlighted with a baby pink glow that spreads over the pines and across the park, it's beckoning. 

     When I look down, the white on the street sign is glinting, making the words Trillium Lane shine so perfectly.

I'm glad I live here. Where it's so quiet you can hear a whisper, where the birds sing so sweetly, where I can watch the sun make its graceful disappearance into tomorrow. Here on Trillium Lane.