rejectomorph | Later That Same Evening . . .

The twilight was remarkable. The clouds and hazy patches in the west all turned a vivid shade of mauve, which deepened to violet and then blue-gray. Alas that I have no camera capable of capturing such shades, or the subtle light pervading the atmosphere.

Now, I can hear the sound of soft rain which has refreshed the jasmine so that its fragrance once again fills the night air much as that unearthly light filled the evening. A single cricket continues to chirp from some sheltered dry spot. All the woodland is wrapped in moist serenity. I'm going out to join it.