End of a Fruitful Day

Is good to be busy, to race from work to work, not the kind of fire chasing we often find ourselves doing, the planned kind that say i get to here then move to the next then finish and on, the battle field turning dark with the nights shadows lengthening, the day cools much quicker now that the sun has lowered in the sky, that crisp wind that blows across skin, the battle field littered with the fallen from the day, resting my body against a lone tree stumble, my legs stretched out, watching as the surviving battle weary have picked themselves up and prepare to make more plans for the evening, a soft chuckle escapes, that they fight so hard through the day to play so hard into the night, my head rest back and my gaze turns upwards to the emerging lights above, something to ponder, to stretch the mind, and there a vision, flowing hair, broad stretched wings, gliding high in the night sky, the fires from the days war burning and reflecting from her body, a rare beauty, to far to be seen clearly but the very radiance of reflected light does light the sky, yet so subtle as to be missed if not looking, how often we miss things, something that runs through the night past the corner of our eye, yet we to busy with the affairs of our day to notice, how many such jewels have we missed, from not taking a moment to reflect on what the day has brought what the days still yet will bring, perhaps tonight there be a quiet woman waiting wine in glasses clear, the evening cool yet not yet so cool as to seek the shelter of cave, perhaps a small fire will do while we sip the intoxicating liquid and whisper softly into the night..   ah such is life..  to be lived enjoyed savored