My day seems endless. My fields await the work I must do within their borders. My afternoon has swept away the seemingly boundless morning. It has come crashing down around me in a flood of whispers. My time is my own as the sun continues its unending cycle across the sky. Another day, the same as the last, the same as the next in my own unending cycle.
The sun gives its failing light to the end of the world and slips below the sentinels that shelter my world. Even their mighty spires can not hold its light above the rim and it signals the end of my day in the outer havens, yet the beginning of other tasks that now await. The fires held within the hearth give their magic glow to my peaceful existence. Its warmth soothes the bones made weary by work. My chair beckons to me, its call nearly more than I am able to withstand. My back longs for its touch, the knowing embrace of its curve. It will have to wait.
As the flames touch the final hours of this day I lay my head upon my feathery crown and await the coming of sleep. The sun shall break the hills again tomorrow and the endless cycle begins anew. My sigh ends my presence in this day as night slips in to take hold of my world.