Dogs communicate much with their gestures, their looks, their gaze. Or so we, their doting owners, believe. Finding Carley curled in the setting sun this afternoon/evening, shoehorned into an unlikely window seat, a new favorite among many favorite napping spots, we paused a moment, each of us, as if exchanging a question. Cozy? Snack time? Nap time? Dinner soon? Maybe an end-of-day swim? Something knowing and familiar. A golden hour nugget of companionship and confirmation.
Golden Hour Haiku
Late afternoon light,
window seated Labrador,
glancing inquiry.
Afternoon and evening meet gradually this time of year, mingling, courting. And golden hour, not just a morning phenomenon, wraps us in its comforting embrace. Time slows. And we wonder, together, toward evening.
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