The autumn sky grows darker each passing night. The sun takes her time enjoying a late slumber. She knows when it’s time to rest and time to play. Candles warm the senses like a warm mug of herbal tea. Artificial light could never equal its warm amber glow. I marvel at the flame, how it flicks on the wick. A quiet solitary dance atop my candle. And when I blow out the flame, I make a small wish: To live another day. To appreciate the day’s gifts. To remember my intention And breathe in the lessons. There’s a small trail of smoke that lingers above a red yet fading wick. Remnants of what was once there. The wax erodes in tandem with the passing of time. And I am aglow inside and out.