rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind

Dark

The sound of a jet's wake rolls around the sky, reminding me a bit of distant thunder, a bit of surf, a bit of a cat purring. A sustained wind plays through the treetops, too, its hum blending with the rumble left by the receding plane. Night being moonless, I cannot see the trees move. I only hear their stirring. On the ground, the air is still except for brief flurries which send dry leaves skittering a few feet. Far off, I hear a faint chirring of cicadas. But for the dark shapes of the trees, a few stars, and the quick flash of a single meteor, there is nothing to be seen. That is why the sounds dominate the night; that, and the soft stir of air against my skin, and the scents of dry grass and pungent pine resin. The town has vanished, and does not intrude as I indulge my other senses. I feel almost sybaritic. The darkest nights are the best.
Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 1 comment