phase three

The clouds have opened up and pushed themselves to the edges of the horizon. The robin's egg blue of a clear, spring sky is cooled by the setting sun, whose light is, conversely, giving warmth to the white clouds masking it, and ignoring the wispy indigo clouds sinking down in the foreground. The familiar sights--the now-bare branches of the beech tree, spider-like and shivering in the March wind, and the view of hills taller and closer than the ones I just left, all a tinge of navy blue--strangely comforting.

I am home. I didn't know I wanted home, but I'm glad to be home.