I leave for work at nearly 8 a.m. The light is falling lower and lower on the horizon. It lives below the equator now. My shadow stretches long and tall behind me. I cannot see, but I don’t care. The sun is on my face and I would rather be nowhere.
The only thing, really, between me and piercing golden rod of sunlight are the leaves. Most are still green, or maybe their edges are curling brown. Others are shimmering yellow.
They drop down, like a soft veil between me and the sun. I share the sidewalk spaces with the black-umbrella shapes of trees.
I don’t mind the intrusion. I am in a city, but I am alone, too. With the sun and the leaves, and the morning. 
1 comment for “London Morning Light”