aosid's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- - The dark-rust silhouette of pines, the swatch of stars north, even the sodium-stained banks over the valley prove too much. He closes his eyes and pulls in the last possible bit of home-warmth, his cells saturated by the improbable excitement of the witching air. As the wind whispers out of his parted lips with the hint of awe, the fidgeting concerns of wasted July suns slink away too. His sinking chest finally rests, and his lids gently open to observe the sable forest. It remains inviting and unknowable, vivid and dim, but it has lost its overwhelming urgency. A sleeping jewel, unseen to the south, has stolen that fire; and in just a few more days-- 1:46 a.m. - 2011-08-23 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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