Sunlight streams over the hill top, flooding our eyes with a deep, blinding gold. We drive through the country lanes to Durdle Door, racing the sun before it disappears beyond the blue horizon.
We park next to a row of white caravans. I grab my camera and skip down the steep, grassy hill as the sun fades from yellow to bright orange. It throws streaks of light up into the sky, and casts a perfect stripe of gold across the ocean. I come to rest by a fence post with a perfect view of the bay. The sun sinks toward the water. Its light glitters through the gap in Durdle Door’s rocky archway as I sit on the grass, the noise of my camera shutter echoing down to the sea.
A family of three joins me, and we watch the sky in silence. Occasionally they whisper of the sun’s beauty to one another, and the wind carries the soft tones of their voices across the cove.
Finally, the circle of gold retreats beneath the horizon and the air is pale. I turn on my heel and head up to the car, only to greet the full moon rising in a purple sky.
Gold turns to silver, and day turns to night.
