rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,


All afternoon, the clouds gradually formed in thin swirling veils here and there, dissipated and re-formed, and as the sun set, glowed gold, then pink, then lavender, and finally turned grey in the early dark, until the waning moon rose and lent them a pale shadow of their daytime whiteness. It was the first day this week when we have seen clouds. Is this a genuine shift in the weather, or only another of those brief foretastes of Autumn? Too, this is the first night this week when the night air has been still, and has carried the hint of moisture. It has been so long since I have heard the sound of rain, and I grow impatient for its return. The growers in the valley would undoubtedly differ with me. Until the fruits and nuts are harvested from the trees, and the grapes stripped from the vines, rain is unwelcome. But here in the mountains, where the underbrush is dry and crackling, I sniff the air expectantly for any hint of rain to come. I watch the clouds all night long, in hopes that they will grow dense with moisture. Thus far, they have remained thin, only enough to intermittently obscure the softened moon and veil most of the stars. I suspect that the growers will get their wish, and mine will be deferred.

Still, the night is beautiful. The air is cool, and not yet chill. The sounds of the town do not carry, and only the song of insects and the occasional night bird can be heard, and, now and then, the crack of a falling acorn against a lower branch of an oak and, then, a soft plop onto the ground which is not yet covered by fallen leaves. There is the restful play of moonlight across the drifting clouds, and the absence of shadows makes it seem as though the houses and streets and every pale thing in the forest were lit by an inner glow. Only the looming trees are truly dark. I think that I can wait a while for the rain. For now, this will do.

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