The mornings are for peppermint showers, seasonal fruits, the oils of a freshly brewed coffee. They are for the senses, for resurection.
In the afternoon, the smoke of backburning and the smoke of home fires compete to make the atmosphere. The late April sun is perfectly round and bright crimson. The emperor of the sky. The only thing that will not be overcome by the suffocating haze.
As the light fades from civil, to nautical, to astronomical – we die again.