rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,


By night, it would be hard to tell if this were October or April, were it not for the cicadas. The daytime sun is unmistakably autumnal, even on a day as balmy as this was, but at night the air is fresh and cool, and soft breezes set the unseen leaves rustling. Perhaps the leaves have a dryer sound in October than they do in April, when they are young and pliant, but the night conceals the darkened colors of the living leaves, and conceals the brown, dead leaves distributed among them.

Perhaps the scent of the soil and the plants carries a hint of the decay to come, but it is not yet strong enough to overpower the smell of grass watered by the recent rain and rapidly greening. The only thing that speaks strongly of autumn tonight is the buzzing of the cicadas. If I could imagine them away, I'd believe the greater part of spring lay ahead, but the cicadas tell me that autumn is here and winter on the way. Be quiet, little bugs, and let me pretend that the night will be brief, and that tomorrow I will see flowers budding, not strews of fallen leaves.

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