One Way or the Other

 Evenings. They blend one into the next and have been for some time now. We can even skip a night, come back at it the next - the only change? the passage of time. It is not an unusual pattern for this time of year. The sky is just as flat in blue as it ever is in grey. Pale, featureless, a drowning pool, trapping anyone who gazes too long, too deep. I watched a crow disappear into it once, its two companions, grounded, looked at one another, glanced at me nervously looking for an answer i was unable to provide. Before 6:00 the breeze comes up, sometimes light, sometime strong. Sometimes it is easier to pedal certain directions, other times the grind goes on forever, or

the basin falls into shadow - you can almost hear the crickets join the concert as the shadow line advances eastward

until you turn the other direction: