rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind

No Storm

There are moments that are all mist, and I am brushed by an icy veil that dissolves at my touch. Each breath is saturated with damp, and even the dead of night darkles with a wet sheen. Drops of water gather, hang unseen from leaf-tip and pine needle, grow plump and ever more pendulous, and then, stretched to their limit by gravity's pull, fall at last, breaking the stillness as they hit some lower leaf, or rooftop, or wet patch of ground. All the night is a soft, slow drumming. Without intent, I form accompanying music in my mind, and the song is like deep, distant woodwinds, and plucked strings, and faint, glassy chimes. Half imagined, dim shapes flit from shadow to shadow like breaths of fog. They might be ghosts of woodland spirits, wandered from some ancient myth to find this silent town and seek among its remaining trees their fellow wanderers, my vague thoughts, always trending from this faded world.
Subscribe

Recent Posts from This Journal

  • Reset Twenty, Day Forty-One

    The longest day of the year is over, and tonight the low will be below seventy for the first time in a week. Today will be hot, but not as hot as…

  • Reset Twenty, Day Forty

    Saturday has been survived! The fire in Bidwell Park was contained after consuming 402 acres, and nothing else nearby has burst into flames despite…

  • Reset Twenty, Day Thirty-Nine

    Friday came and went and I survived again! Chico survived, too. The fire that got started in the park Thursday evening has so far remained mostly in…

  • 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.
  • 0 comments