Put the phone down for the sky

This isn’t against a phone. It’s against missing the only pink the day will offer because a rectangle was louder.

The sky doesn’t send a reminder. It happens. Then it’s gone. You can photograph it, yes — after you have stood there long enough to feel it in your chest.

This is a habit with heat in it. Guard the last light the way you would guard a letter from someone you love. Step to the rail. Let the ocean be bigger than the feed.

If you forget, begin the next evening. Wisdom isn’t never failing. It’s coming back to the window.