Golden

It’s late, and not yet dark. Night has been delayed. On the road since morning, still hours from home. A lot has happened in this day. Soulful songs play on repeat as the golden light washes everything a shade of brilliance. The sun hovers over the cliffs that look down upon the river plain, for now a late spring hue of green, soon to be golden in its own right. A snake indeed, this river, slithering past the sagebrush and the dry grasses. The world I came from seems a faint memory already, and I’ve only just left. I have returned this way before, hurrying to beat back the cold wind and the night sky, this place still foreign and strange. But on this golden day, the land sings along with the soulful song. I have been seduced. It feels good to be home.