Watching the magic

Do you have a favourite time of day?  I like that quiet hour before the sun sets, the sigh at the end of a long day.

I sit at the kitchen table for it is here I can watch the shadows lengthen and the sky begin its slide through the colours of dusk.

Much like a British accent lending words greater veracity, thoughts composed at this point of the day seem to have more profound depth.

Sitting here in the gloaming, I feel wise and creative, as though I could out-Donne the man himself. I am certain that Middle Earth was conceived in the quiet reflection of evening, not the expectant demand of morning.

But now the light grows too dim to see my pen scrawl across the page, and this candle flickers too much for helpfulness. I am reluctant to turn on lights for they erect a barrier between me and the gentle magic passing by my window.