I walk but don’t breathe. Phlox had already finished what they started, extracting enough nitrogen for a night. The river glints like untimely fireflies. So this is how it is – the shock of a breeze brushing through dry marrow, the first rude awakening into light and color? Shadows of green, brushed with violet, search for each other within me. Cold light tickling my head, I become the day of the river at night.