6:25

The sun set slowly over the hillside, casting its dying light against the clouds and bringing their chameleon-like shapes into relief, changing over and over the colours and tones of the evening sky.

The rains had gone and there was now a little warmth in the air, soon all that would remain of the dying summer sun. From the coulee the evening song of the frogs and crickets slowly replaced the happy chattering of sparrows and chickadees. It was unusually humid, and moisture hung in the air, making it as close to muggy as it ever got on the desert-like prairie.

High in the sky an angled line of geese slowly descended over the horizon returning to the lake after a day of feeding. It was early for them to be making their way back south, but the goslings were all grown up and perhaps it was a sign that these summer days were also slowly setting. A last forlorn chorus of honking and the geese were gone, leaving nothing and no one to share the moment.

And ever more quickly the waves of light faded, rippling out against the clouds, winking in and out, in and out and then fading to nothingness; one by one, slowly leaving nothing but darkness in their wake.

And at last the light was gone. The clouds spread across the sky to brush out the light of the stars. And the prairie was quiet, dark and a most suitable canvas for the feelings of loneliness and quiet fear that were all that remained of a long and unmourned day.