Don't think I forgot T.S. Tuesday. It's a little late, but finally here. 


"Time and the bell have buried the day,
The black cloud carries the sun away.
Will the sunflower turn to us, will the clematis
Stray down, bend to us; tendril and spray
Clutch and cling?
Chill
Fingers of yew be curled
Down on us? After the kingfisher's wing 
Has answered light to light, and is silent, the light is still
At the still point of the turning world." From T.S. Eliot's Burnt Norton

The black cloud of night carries the sun away. Away from our ambling conversations, from the rusty red bricks of garden planters, from the flowers that clutch and cling. Cling and clutch. Clutched to the smooth cold, concrete, drawing light. Light draws us like a sunflower. 


The sun away, it is only us. Us soaked in rays, in freckled remnants of radiant light, burned across our very skin.