It’s hazy tonight, the blue moon won’t be visible, certainly won’t be blue. It’ll be a grey sunset. So why am I walking to Atwater Bluff?
Then I noticed cloud wisps of luminous pink, and the ambivalence fled. Soon I could see Michigan’s grey water overhung by a hazy sky, and a white streak of mist glowing along the horizon. And I could hear humans, red-winged blackbirds, and sea gulls, calling from all directions. Symphony of sound, subtlety of hues, the magic of the bluff was there as always. May the bluff, and the grass that abuts it, remain that way, magical and non-toxic, all summer.
