The equinox sunrise glows gray behind the curtain. A bird’s shadow flies, close by.
I know there will be equal hours of dark and light outside. This will change quickly; parity is not equilibrium. The shadow will spread more, across each day.
Here’s a trick our ancestors knew in their smoky villages: in the winter, make things. Fill the cooling evenings with something you can create with your hands, with your voice, with your dusk-dreaming.