When The Grasses Shine

It starts with frost because the sun has dipped, weak and low in the sky.

The fading plants of the tall flower meadow are singed brown. The grass heads get bleached and the lingering low angle of a morning sun lights the grasses alive.

The muted colors of a lousy fall, briefly flame.

And I wait until late afternoon when the sun finally makes it around to the service entrance and paint the landing and a few more steps.

Late afternoon when the sun is low and weak once more, before it dips behind the trees, when the grasses shine again.