An hour after sunset, an orange glow appears on the eastern horizon, like a forest fire one county over. Out of that glow blooms a moon so fat and round and orange that cheese metaphors become hard to ignore. I sit and watch as it climbs straight up into the darkened sky, casting a shadow across the grass, and the evening comes alive.Frog and cricket song fills the night air like perfume, and I chase after a firefly, laughing and remembering back thirty summers and eight thousand miles distant.
No comments:
Post a Comment