Island moods, one evening walk
I circumnavigated most of the island yesterday, probably about a two miles’ walk. It was a sultry, unsettled evening, one of those weather patterns where the sky feels like a sullen teenager. You’re not sure if you’ll get a long, lingering low, or something more electrified and explosive. Weak flits of sunshine poked occasionally through the heavy cloud cover; a sprinkle of rain began, then gave up, not worth the trouble. By sunset, the clouds had begun to lift, and the bright sun flashed its brilliance for a hopeful minute before settling down to bed.
By 9pm, twilight, the world had cooled and the last dregs of light hovered over Sargent and Pemetic Mountains across the Eastern Way.
My 60th year in 60,000 words
Day 329: 118 words, TOTAL = 53,375; 6,625 remaining
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Robin Clifford Wood is an award-winning author, poet, and writing teacher. She lives in central Maine with her husband, loves to be outdoors, and enjoys ever-expanding horizons through her children, grandchildren, and granddogs.