Souls of Light_An Everyday Task basked in the Spectacular

I raked the leaves in my garden late last afternoon.
With the hand of a master, the light painted the sky changing its mind in rapid succession to create a feast of color against black reaching branches.

The children played in the light.
The smooth skin of youth reflected the colors of an unknown world far away.
The rake swept the grass, collecting leaves
An everyday task basked in the spectacular
I filled the bags.
The children said, "I eat rainbows."

"This beautiful light comes from the sun," I said.
I wanted to continue and say:
It comes from the sun of all of the souls lost to violence creating a worldly beauty to soothe our mortal existence.
The joy of the children silenced my somber thoughts.
"I like to eat rainbows too," I said.
The children tossed the leaves high in the air.

I took no pictures of that last night's sky, nor of the children.
It was non reproducible in all facets.
I just let it come and be and pass.
Undocumented, it is now a memory.

The picture below is a montage of the view I have been treated to from my stoop this fall of light.