A Walker in the Suburbs

A late walk, not timed for sunset but finding it anyway. There at the end of the street, the end of the neighborhood, the end of the day.

It was not an untrammeled view. Lines and lights and poles obscured it. But maybe, I thought as I snapped, they were the point.

“Stop,” say the red lights. “Savor the colors, the clouds, the setting sun. Make time for them as often as you can.”