“Light blazes up / Scorching the dusk / But don’t it make you feel like this is home?”

Stepped out this morning right at the moment where the sun hit the grasses and the trees and the air and turned them that particular shade of desert gold, made all the more dramatic by the sky above being muted and gray, not its usual deep blue.

After a moment, I realized I saw rain falling softly next door, even though I felt no rain where I stood. This happens sometimes in the desert, rain showers so localized you can see their edges.

I stepped out into the street and walked forward, into the rain. As I did the rain hit the raindrops too, turning them to dripping gold.

Either I went on to yoga class after that, or I wound up in some other place entirely–because surely crossing the border from not-rain to rain is just the sort of limnal crossing that can, once in a great while, lead one from Here to Elsewhere, too.

13900 / 50000 words. 28% done!

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