Crickets

Twilight brushes dusk with it subdued glows. The air is warm and moist from an evening shower. Birds flit and tweet. Crickets chirp and the river roars, unwavering. Serene and peaceful, the world prepares itself for sleep, but not yet an eternal slumber.

How many hours is it?

Days, weeks, months?

The sky will come crashing and Mother Earth will awaken. Crushing and bruising, her path will be painful and destructive.

Beyond repair,

beyond hope,

beyond words.

The birds do not know so, they will continue their dance. The crickets do not know so, they will continue to chirp. The river does not know so, it will continue to roar, unwavering.

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