When the sun faded to a burlap shade of green and slid behind the clouds, the birds came out to fly, and perch, and talk their bird talk in the trees surrounding the nearby lake. It was a beautiful, reflective lake, without encircling soggy marshes and dank, black, boot-sucking bogs. The water was silent and inviting, cool and wet, clean and fresh. Grass grew tall in hues of green and yellows now, around the lake shores, and the animals drank freely, and grazed, and ran.
On the breeze was a hint of autumn; somewhere a wood fire burned, the smokey oak smell swam over the hills into the valley, carrying the incense of the mellowing fields beyond.
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