The day's declining hours bring some relief, as the clouds thin, becoming patches of white cirrus floating in pale blue. The sun at the horizon is an orange glow, like a fire in the pine woods. Dusk deepens the lake of sky, the few remaining wisps of cloud flush pink and mauve. The evening birds chirp as a cooler air arrives, though as yet it barely stirs. The crickets have begun to sing. I place a hose to irrigate the drooping sourgrass, and the trickling sound is as cooling as the falling night. Together, they drive briefly from my mind the thought of the enervating summer's inevitable advance.
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- rejectomorph (
flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind
Here
The day's declining hours bring some relief, as the clouds thin, becoming patches of white cirrus floating in pale blue. The sun at the horizon is an orange glow, like a fire in the pine woods. Dusk deepens the lake of sky, the few remaining wisps of cloud flush pink and mauve. The evening birds chirp as a cooler air arrives, though as yet it barely stirs. The crickets have begun to sing. I place a hose to irrigate the drooping sourgrass, and the trickling sound is as cooling as the falling night. Together, they drive briefly from my mind the thought of the enervating summer's inevitable advance.
-
Reset Twenty-Two, Day Eight
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