The day’s last light, before everything slows.

A warm, familiar evening.

Morning air so clean, you breathe slower.

First light - warm, quiet, unhurried.

The soft edge between waking and dream.

The scent of stillness after a rushing day.

The forest’s freshness, brought indoors.

A clear, weightless boundary - distinctly your own.

A soft veil, wrapped with intention.

A slower breath, one roll away.

An ember still glowing quietly within.

Back on your own ground.