The light fades earlier now; sometimes the sun breaks through the ragged grey-silk clouds just at sunset. The windows of our workspace face west, and nearly every day I leap up at this burst of light in an otherwise wet and brooding afternoon, witnessing the colors I've wrestled with for hours, now emblazoned across the sky. My co-workers are used to this daily outburst, and oblige my entreaty to see for themselves.
And of course it's gone just as quickly as it appeared — ephemeral light!
I don't think I'll ever tire of this.
Later: the trudge through the dark to home.
No crows to keep me company.