rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,


This evening, the trees repose in windless air, their leaves unmoved except when a bird alights to set some twig momentarily bobbing. I watched the blue afternoon sky breed chevrons of cirrus clouds, which gradually puffed and thickened and spread to every horizon. Now dusk arrives with no hint of sunset, but only this mottled ceiling of slate shot with silver light. Bees have ceased to buzz, and the green landscape darkens. The day's heat will be trapped. There will be a foretaste of summer sultriness. The crickets will sing faster songs tonight.

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