The Evening Show
The breeze was chilly, but carried the scent of the forest. The sun was settling low, sleepy and ready to retire for the night. Its rays did not bring warmth, but they were able to puncture the disorganized clouds and play at random across the mountain forest. Through a gap in the trees, I stood and watched, like a child peeking through the curtain at a burlesque, marveling at the way the soft, shifting light revealed and then concealed, Nature teasing with a coy fan dance of light and shadow, flashing winsome colors and beguiling shapes. The receding tree-covered slopes fell in crisscross fashion, braided mountains, with flecks of subtle color entwined to draw attention: Nature in her come-hither mood, silently saying, "Look at me in my glory." My heart beat faster as I stood watching the show.