Dark and low.

[hannah]

The sunset was gorgeous tonight - a fat, soft crescent up in the southern part of the sky, the wide horizon over the Hudson and past New Jersey's lights slivered and separated by cloud layers themselves going up and down from the sky to the earth and back again. The sharpest, shivering reds and pinks cut off by the pebbly clouds, tidal markers for the sky. Above and beyond those, closer to me and farther from the horizon, they were a dark gray-violet, and the sky behind those, an almost cold, slow blue.

I listened and heard a small chirping sound from somewhere below me. Possibly from the terrace of the penthouses just below the rooftop with its fine selection of large potted plants. Possibly from some small creature flying around, since I could hear it from the other side of the roof. Perhaps even from the trees down at street level below.

There were other people on the roof, all of them enjoying themselves together. I wanted to go over to them and ask if they could hear that chirping - make them listen to what was around them. Take out the earbuds and turn off the music and hear this faint sound of life in the city. I didn't, because I knew they weren't in a place or time to be open to hearing it at all.

So I went back inside, and left them to their own company.

Comments

[yourlibrarian]

I love those moments of connecting with nature.

[hannah]

Even in a city, they're there if you look.