Four days with thunder.
Between storms it still rains in the woodlands. Large drops slide from their leaf-top perches and break into smaller droplets as they fall through the canopy. They mingle with oak, with pine, and with soil, and they rise again as a warm mist, carrying the scent with them. This scented mist clings to the traveler and she cannot cool down.
Where the trail is steepest a boulder – striped with quartz – peeks from the mountain laurel. She rests there, draped across the cold stone, and she daydreams.
in the gloaming
with its kiss
Carpe Diem #764