As darkness settles 'round him the bullfrog sounds his, "gallub, gallub" from a nearby pond. Peepers lend their falsetto notes to the frog's deep, throaty melody.
The crackle of fire from our furnace pit; a pop from the glowing logs.
While all this chorus sings around us we watch the fireflies rise, straight up from the tall grass like smoke from a chimmney on a cold winter morning. Hundreds of tiny flickering lights hover and disperse, playing tricks on the eye as they disappear, only to relight several feet away.
The moon is behind a massive cloud now, causing its edges to shimmer. The light is obscured and diffused while the cloud resembles a huge, white hydrangea cluster hanging in the black air.
We sit until it is too dark to detect a passing fox or deer. The fire embers breathe and glow as if they refuse to give in to death. Their heat is more fervent than even the flames had been. We pull closer toward them, ourselves not wanting to depart from present company; not wishing to leave the beautiful sights and sounds of the night.
How beautifully written! This is almost like a poem.
ReplyDeleteI agree with Mrs. T ! Beautifully said! Having been there it is such a rich description of the lovely summer evening with friends. Dottie
ReplyDelete