Dusk wood

I enter into the soft night air.  A lazy summer scent of plants and warm earth.  The trees, standing majestic, and the grass illuminated with a sunset iridescence.  Over the back wall, peach-pink clouds tinged with pastel yellow, brushed carelessly across the sky in broad sweeps.

Into the wood, treading softly.  The peaceful silence, as civilisation sleeps, seeps through my being.  I pause awhile in stillness, just being, taking it in.

A canopy of leaves, an impressionist canvas of dusky greens set against a backdrop of peach-tinged blue, whispers and sighs in the evening breeze.  The dark silhouettes of beech and rowan, receding into the deepness of the wood.  A solitary spider, suspended, motionless, on a delicate pattern of invisible threads between two twigs, hanging above.

The stream murmurs a gentle lullaby as it tumbles on, never-ending.

Two pipistrelles, with acrobatic precision, flit to and fro, in a daring game of hold-on-and-swerve-at-the-last-minute.

I could stay here forever.

I turn and leave the wood.  Back into the noises and glare of civilisation, the harsh orange light drowning out the peace...

I actually just went out to feed the horse and lock the hens up, but there you go...