Sometimes, you just have to listen...
To the stillness between moments, to the rustling of leaves of yellow and brown twisting and twirling with the wind, anticipating rain, to the flapping of the wings in the sky-calling out to freedom. Listen... To the breathing of your body, to the ticking of time, to your feet caressing the grass beneath you while you walk alone in silence as darkness colours the blue of the sky...
Took my dog out for a walk in the evening... The Retriever leads me down the road, sniffing about, wagging his tail, perking his ears every now and then whenever a fellow canine scurries past.
I hum unconsciously as I walk. It's a beautiful road. A long stretch with tall, intimidating trees hugging it on either side, casting innocuous shadows onto the grey boulevard. The lamp posts stand nonchalantly at equal distances from the trees, creating small pools of light, illuminating the dreary road as far as their circumference allows. Fallen leaves lie scattered in dismay, they have their own stories to tell. The air is dry, lifeless, still.
The cicadas sting the air with their shrills: high-pitched, droning sounds that compete with silence, and win. My pace becomes slower, as my eyes search into the night, for beauty, life and celebration of it. The moths dance hypnotically under the lamp posts, their translucent wings slithering against each other, as the light seeps gracefully into their fine, muslin-like textures. Lost in trance, their movements explore the space, with definite and indefinite troughs and crests.
They are spell-bound to the magic the light renders. Drunk, as some may say. Lost, as lovers may say. Mystified, as the poets would say.
It begins to drizzle. I extend my hand out, wishing to embrace the moment, as few droplets parachute down. Then a few more descend. And then, some more.
My dog turns his head around to look at me, while he continues to walk. His eyes seem to question, as his tongue hangs out insipidly in thirst.
"Lets go home, shall we?"
He wags his tail in response. We turn around, as the clouds resonate in anger, promising yet another thunder-storm. We keep walking, fearlessly like lovers, eventually disappearing into the night, leaving the whispers of dead leaves behind to tell our story.