CHARMED AND CHARMING

The sun going down like a beet, neon, into a secretly sewn pocket. This is a favorite sentence that I used before. But it is, it does, - doesn’t it? And though so many cars were in the parking lot- it being dusk and cooler- and the weather having been previously, in the day, so oppressively hot,- I was worried about crowds. But there was nobody out there! - So we went, and we walked, - exploring the tall bushes, - the views of the fields to the left and the right. Some bird was yelling, - maybe a strange species that builds it nests on the ground. Some white wild flowers against the sky, - the crescent moon as in a story, - a story a grandfather might tell. The clouds, - so horizontal, and the sun weakening, its beautiful death occurring, - amidst a bit of cricket song, - that old bird, - and the rustle of the dogs running through the tall grasses little hills and ridge ways. It’s grown, - grown all around there for the humidity. Nothing, even with such a bleached out and dry summer- seems parched or overly flaxen. Why not? Because it all somehow shades itself. There is just enough tall parts,-trees, feral shrubs, so on- and curves, slopes,- tree-line shade from forest edges- to protect it from too much sun. Nature, - wise, charmed and charming...

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