While I thought I was late on the sunset, I figured it was never a bad thing to head down to the river to see the day's fading light burn a hole in the sky.
I was right.
I descended to the river as flocks of birds flew just parallel to the dark glassy lake before pulling up.
The sun had set, but the scene was still stunning:
The scene was framed in by the dark glass river and the grey clouded sky.
Between these dark frames, the sun's fading light burnt golden across the horizon until they reached the dark black night forest. Night lights began dotting the darkness, and their reflections like stars in a black river.
Bats fluttered with indifference.
Behind me, the lights on the Pont Wilson came on on the stone arches. The three stone arches lit like the three magi.
The scene ended with a finger of golden light stretching across the horizon as the grey clouds sheltered it out.
I framed my fingers like a painting's frames, trying to hold onto the memory and picture as tightly as I could.