Monday, December 8, 2003

Running Lights

Westerly pinkful glow beneath wisps of white hanging over the hills. Going, going, gone. And night is here before we've even had time to blink.

Darkness spreads beneath the trees. Evening creeps across the water. Shadows deepen.

A full moon rises from behind downtown where holiday decorations on lampposts along Congress Avenue shine. The city throws its reflections into the water.

Mars is overhead. Venus chases the sun that left us so soon. And across the river on top of the hill, the Zilker Tree is aglow.

Sometimes it's a drag, this running in the dark of winter evening. And then sometimes it's not.


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