At dusk Sunday, a radiant glow grabbed me by the throat and dragged me towards Daphne's shore. Like a heat-seeking drone, my truck was drawn down Bayfront Park Drive to sea level. A Field-of-Dreams headlight convoy followed in my mirror.

I parked near the cupola, approached the water's edge. A teen shed her cool and shot past me to the dock with younger sisters trailing. An older couple settled on a new metal swing. Cars were abandoned in mid-street, lights on, door ajar. Occupants marched zombie-like towards the light. 

We were mute. Our minds couldn't string together words to describe The Maker's artwork. Pregnant from the day's storms, the atmosphere was a blazing arc blushed with golds, scarlets and magentas.

Across the Bay, the sun silhouetted the RSA Tower before nestling into the earth's curve. The glow rheostated to black, leaving us in open-mouthed awe. It was a spirit-filled moment. It is why I live here. LA is a place where Nature trumps anything man can imagine.

Get out there in it!

6 Hawks