Today was clear, crisp as the leaves that skirl in the street, caught in invisible eddies. The sunset did not deign to stay for long without clouds overhead to catch its glow and rim the horizon in fire. Instead comes the bluing, the sky glowing behind bare branches. Twilight comes, comfortable in the autumn air, regent of the time between. After the sun but before the moon, the entire sky seems as glass before a candle, a surreal blue. During the bluing anything is possible, as the world plays by the in-between rules and prepares to greet night, and the sky shines richly overhead.