Watching the Diurnal Performance.

The setting sun was a particularly startling shade of orange tonight; and as I watched it sink, I was reminded again that it wasn’t sinking at all, but that I was moving backwards.

This is one of those circumstances in which the mind is superior to the brain, because to my earth-bound brain in which the stillest of celestial bodies moves its relentless course relative to me, the sun did, indeed, sink into a haze of pink-tinged grey.

When it was gone, I looked south to where the moon was rising above the trees in the cold blue of a darkening sky. There seemed something of deep significance about watching the end of day exiting stage right, while the start of night made her entrance from the other side.

And that made me wonder just how long this play has been going on, and where I was at the start of it all.