September 22, 2022 - Elizabeth Lerman’s “The Light is Different Today”

The light is different today and I am certain something has changed. An imperceivable shift that really only shows itself through afternoon sun slipping between low hanging leaves. Wherever there is a gap, a needing, wanting space, in buildings, in trees, in most things in between, a new season’s song fills the cracks, the corners of the city that ask for a speck and not much more, the places that could keep standing as they are but where, if you look closely, there is some soft spot stretching out to see what’s changed, craning its concrete neck, bending its branches to let all the brightness in, or even a small part of it, whatever rays it is able to spare, to lend, maybe, so that everything here can feel the way new light falls.