The Low Hanging Sun

I went to take out the trash, the good trash, glass and paper destined for a re-incarnation and as I stepped outside, thee air cool and pearly white, the low hanging sun smiles, throws a late afternoon warmth over me like a blanket of silk.... For a moment I stopped to think, then thanked the low hanging sun for being there, the last defense against a cold deep unto death. In our immense Universe, wallless, ever expanding, is mostly night, utter and fearsome darkness, all pitch-black and cold, a coldness beyond comprehension or life-- so the light and heat of every myriad star is precious, precious....