Twilight

It's that time of the day again: 8ish, August, in Washington, DC. The sun is down, a warm breeze floats between the buildings, and the lighting's just right.

It's soft, cool, hushed: soothing to the scorched monuments.

It's a sweet, blue-gray. Federal blue.

Yellow lights peek out of grand hotel windows like anxious lovers. Traffic and people slow down. Headlights on the street are gaily lined up like birthday candles. Or holiday lights.

Twilight's glow is nature's candlelight.