Billy watched the valley, and the clouds staggered their passage first on the western mountains and then caught again on the eastern ridge. In between was a space of very blue sky, and the clouds were lit from behind by the western sun that fell away as the world spun on axis in the other direction. He watched the slow movement of the clouds, watched the darkening silhouetted mountains, the trembling leaves on the poplars. He watched a raven as black as the approaching night fly above the treeline and land. “It’s time to go,” he said, and he finished his drink and he stood to leave.
Leave a Reply