Outside, the sun rolled into his western bed, pulling his vermilion covers with him. The air is mellow and cool, a welcome change from the lingering August heat. The sound of my brothers playing wiffle ball carries in the clear atmosphere. Basket in hand, I step into the old sleepy barn. Hens from their roost scold as I collect their days' work. Eleven. The rooster mildly watches in the semi-dark. G' night, Randall. I lock them safely in for the night. Lungs fill with clean blue calm, stars uncover slowly in the big sky overhead, gravel crunches underfoot. The evening makes my big flannel shirt feel just right. Home lights beckon invitingly, boys laugh in the backyard, Hannah's fiddle sings a song.
For everyday evenings, thank You, Lord.
-ak
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