I collided with a grasshopper while a starling with whirring dark-red wingtips raced ahead of me on the mountain path. From their yellow throats, tiny purple flowers joined the hallelujah chorus of a sunny weekday afternoon on the mountain. Purpurea, purple, periwinkle, pink. Purpurea oxalis, the flowers that tell you winter is here.
From the foot of Devil's Peak I breathed in the last golden light, sweet as nectar.
The tri-tri-tri whistle of a sunbird sliced the air in a beat of three and then night fell just as Venus and a ship in the bay lit up.
And in that very last light, a white rock breathed the last sigh of a sunny day, sharing its heat with dusty-pink ericas.
P.s. This blog is for Heidi, who inspired this one.