And The Trees Glow
It’s the late afternoon, and the sun grows tired and languid, yawning as it slowly descends behind the trees, flares dulling from a crisp yellow to a sultry orange. The shadows grow, stretching forever, the dirt road sprouting freckles, spotted by bursts of light and dark imprints, the light blocked by the leaves and the squirrels. And the leaves! The leaves glow, illuminate, a transfixing emerald green. They glow with passion! They glow with radiance! They glow and the squirrels scurry across the branches, and as the tree shakes, the leaves whisper, tell secrets, giggle faintly. Cicadas stretch and flutter their wings, bothered by the heat, awakened by the orange air, begin chirping oooooAAAAA oooooAAAAA oooooAAAAA. And the cicadas yearn for love, and summer yearns for love, and humanity yearns for love.