The trees arched, swayed, and waltzed with the lamenting wind. The sun’s fading light poured through aspen leaves as they snapped and popped like the noise that comes from the end of a bull whip. A small stream makes its way down towards a small town on the western side of the great rocky mountains. It formed a pool of water beneath the trees, where the water swirled, tumbled, and danced with a myriad of azures, yellows, and crimson coloured sparkling lights in the mountain stream, that were contrived by the sun as it melted behind the infinite horizon of this small universe.
Surrounding the pool was foliage of every kind, and vines stretched up, circling; and embracing the trees as a canvas of plant art. This foliage was so dense as to make for only one path in, one path out. As the sunlight ebbed, a trail that once showed signs of heavy traffic belonged to the shadows. At the top of the trail a green glow emanated, and the sound of music played. The shadows departed from this point and an outline of a truck appeared, its color was sage, and it blended well with the mountain surroundings.
The glow, and music originated from the cab of a parked truck, but no one was there. A shuffling noise from the truck bed revealed two people, a man, and a woman. He was sitting propped up with his back against the bed of the truck cab. She was resting on her side, her head on his shoulder, one arm laid across his chest. They both were quietly looking down at the valley below, watching as the blue hour passed; and night settled in.
They could see the city’s lights coming on, it was all so automated — the rows and rows of street lights, then slowly the lights of the many houses. Now and then a car head light or the tail lights appeared moving between the rows of street lights. The man and woman were lost in this transcendent beauty, yet they were not in it; they were in their own space, time, with only the stars above them.
She looked up at him — she looked for his eyes — but the darkness that had settled around them allowed only what the green glow of the radio would reveal. But seemingly, at that same moment, he looked directly into her eyes and through the dark the green of his eyes showed clearly. No words were said, but in that one glance a novel was written. She laid her head back down, and buried it into his shoulder, and held him as if there were no tomorrow. Then a tear quietly rolled down her cheek, and for this moment — this instance — she was home — home in his arms.
Yes — Really — I wrote that, and the reality is that I have spent hours on those few lines of text, to many to recount. It was — nothing but a fictional story, but at one time very personal to me. It came to me one day, while in a mood.
Thanks for the read, and feel free to comment…