Sunlit Sunday

A path, through sunlight, through trees. Each and every time I stop and take a picture: it pulls me in, again and again, this quiet, irresistible invitation.

Only a few blue flowers remain, crinkling at the edges. In their place, an abundance of down, soft to the touch, ready to fly, to flee, to fall.

I wonder if there is a word for the gold light of a sunny September morning? Its softness, its thickness, the way it falls and touches, like a parent’s hand, like a kiss.

2 thoughts on “Sunlit Sunday”

  1. There doesn’t need to be a word Joanna, because you have expressed it so perfectly, so beautifully. Along with these two lovely photos I have been transported there. Thank you.

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