corvi (corivax) wrote,

Solstice Eve

A couple hours outside Sacramento, we make a rest stop. The sky is hazy and distant and soft, a perfect dusk-dull rainbow, dusty red to a thin pale glaciermelt blue overhead. Despite sundown, the asphalt is still almost too warm to walk on, and I shift from foot to foot restlessly. It is still and hot, and I can feel the wait to sunrise, to the Solstice, the Longest Day, to the sun ascendant and the light that will rise to touch it.
I used to live here, but it has been a very long time. I find an acacia tree growing at the restS stop, with feathery leaves that fold up when you touch them, long graceful thorns, and an odd half-remembered spicy scent. It easy easy to look at the sky through the ghostly feather-fern silhouette of the acacia and see something that cannot be touched, a no-thing, a mirage, a long dim hallway onto night.

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