The touch.

                                                              The festival of light.

Down by the bay the misty sun glints gently off the water and softly brushes over the trees and banks of salal. I feel it touching me too as I pause to make a photo. It is the gentleness of the light that has pulled me into the scene and in a time when we are drifting toward the harshness of winter this is a parting gift.

It is a spooky thing to feel this powerful communication without any religious packaging, no framing, just a direct touch of a vanishing hand and a whispered promise of return.