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From the lingering shimmer of the dying sunset to the slow-veiling smokiness of nightfall - dusk is the best time of day: there's a magic in it, a dream-like feel.
Yesterday I was outside when the twilight descended, far away from the world's lights, alone within the solitude of a nameless nowhere... and what did I see?
From the eaves of a grove of pine trees (or were they firs?) I saw the stark silhouette of a bird of prey hovering low above a field, flapping its wings with looming promise. As I was trying to fathom what species it was (probably a kestrel), it swooped like a dive-bomber into a clump of long grass. Moments later it emerged and flew away with sharp speed over and to the left of where I stood. I struggled to ascertain whether there was a doomed little beastie clasped in its jowls, but to witness the antics of this feathered wonder at close quarters made for a special moment.
As the dusk deepened I wandered along a winding path which led my exploring boots to a sodden meadow, at the heart of which was a large pool, and in the gathering gloom my eyes fell on a most peculiar sight: seated around the pool's periphery was a ring of gnomes in dark-green attire watching a stripteasing slyph.
What in the name of the scurrying squirrel is this? I thought, my mind becoming a blurry pit of tangled fascination with every passing second. An enchanted silence fell on the surrounding landscape, with me like a ghostly scarecrow standing perfectly still as if embedded in the earth.
As I watched the slyph sway gently with arms outstretched like some fey belly dancer, my ears picked up the faint melody of what sounded like tinkling bells.
Doubt crept in.
I rubbed my eyes with the tops of my forefingers in that classic disbelieving way, then, after much blinking, refocused once again on the pool...
Huh, what a fool. I quickly came to the realization that the fading light was playing tricks on me. If that crow perched on that nearby branch knew of my delusion, he would've been cackling like a rambunctious magpie.
There were no lascivious little people, no scantly-clad water spirit - of course there wasn't! Encircling the large pool was nothing else but shrubs, thorns and herbage, and protruding from the water was just the gnarled remains of a fallen tree. Gnomes and a dancing slyph indeed. But what was I saying about the magical, dream-like quality of dusk? It can have the effect of masking normality and conjuring mirages to entertain the eyes of the wayward adventurer.
The bird of prey was real, mind - or at least I think it was...
Yesterday I was outside when the twilight descended, far away from the world's lights, alone within the solitude of a nameless nowhere... and what did I see?
From the eaves of a grove of pine trees (or were they firs?) I saw the stark silhouette of a bird of prey hovering low above a field, flapping its wings with looming promise. As I was trying to fathom what species it was (probably a kestrel), it swooped like a dive-bomber into a clump of long grass. Moments later it emerged and flew away with sharp speed over and to the left of where I stood. I struggled to ascertain whether there was a doomed little beastie clasped in its jowls, but to witness the antics of this feathered wonder at close quarters made for a special moment.
As the dusk deepened I wandered along a winding path which led my exploring boots to a sodden meadow, at the heart of which was a large pool, and in the gathering gloom my eyes fell on a most peculiar sight: seated around the pool's periphery was a ring of gnomes in dark-green attire watching a stripteasing slyph.
What in the name of the scurrying squirrel is this? I thought, my mind becoming a blurry pit of tangled fascination with every passing second. An enchanted silence fell on the surrounding landscape, with me like a ghostly scarecrow standing perfectly still as if embedded in the earth.
As I watched the slyph sway gently with arms outstretched like some fey belly dancer, my ears picked up the faint melody of what sounded like tinkling bells.
Doubt crept in.
I rubbed my eyes with the tops of my forefingers in that classic disbelieving way, then, after much blinking, refocused once again on the pool...
Huh, what a fool. I quickly came to the realization that the fading light was playing tricks on me. If that crow perched on that nearby branch knew of my delusion, he would've been cackling like a rambunctious magpie.
There were no lascivious little people, no scantly-clad water spirit - of course there wasn't! Encircling the large pool was nothing else but shrubs, thorns and herbage, and protruding from the water was just the gnarled remains of a fallen tree. Gnomes and a dancing slyph indeed. But what was I saying about the magical, dream-like quality of dusk? It can have the effect of masking normality and conjuring mirages to entertain the eyes of the wayward adventurer.
The bird of prey was real, mind - or at least I think it was...
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Shutupshutupshutupshutup
Lexis is a car, nothing else.
Are we clear on this?
Lexis is a car, nothing else.
Are we clear on this?
beautifully simply
I also feel it would be coy not to mention the extraordinary use of lexis. Where do you pick up such extravogant words?
I also feel it would be coy not to mention the extraordinary use of lexis. Where do you pick up such extravogant words?
Yeh, words are great. Nice one Glove.
:D
Must say, your vocabulary is... big. I really should read more, might bring books into work, try and give myself a little more range to work with. Rambunctious is indeed a wonderful word.
Must say, your vocabulary is... big. I really should read more, might bring books into work, try and give myself a little more range to work with. Rambunctious is indeed a wonderful word.
From the lingering shimmer of the dying sunset to the slow-veiling smokiness of nightfall - dusk is the best time of day: there's a magic in it, a dream-like feel.
Yesterday I was outside when the twilight descended, far away from the world's lights, alone within the solitude of a nameless nowhere... and what did I see?
From the eaves of a grove of pine trees (or were they firs?) I saw the stark silhouette of a bird of prey hovering low above a field, flapping its wings with looming promise. As I was trying to fathom what species it was (probably a kestrel), it swooped like a dive-bomber into a clump of long grass. Moments later it emerged and flew away with sharp speed over and to the left of where I stood. I struggled to ascertain whether there was a doomed little beastie clasped in its jowls, but to witness the antics of this feathered wonder at close quarters made for a special moment.
As the dusk deepened I wandered along a winding path which led my exploring boots to a sodden meadow, at the heart of which was a large pool, and in the gathering gloom my eyes fell on a most peculiar sight: seated around the pool's periphery was a ring of gnomes in dark-green attire watching a stripteasing slyph.
What in the name of the scurrying squirrel is this? I thought, my mind becoming a blurry pit of tangled fascination with every passing second. An enchanted silence fell on the surrounding landscape, with me like a ghostly scarecrow standing perfectly still as if embedded in the earth.
As I watched the slyph sway gently with arms outstretched like some fey belly dancer, my ears picked up the faint melody of what sounded like tinkling bells.
Doubt crept in.
I rubbed my eyes with the tops of my forefingers in that classic disbelieving way, then, after much blinking, refocused once again on the pool...
Huh, what a fool. I quickly came to the realization that the fading light was playing tricks on me. If that crow perched on that nearby branch knew of my delusion, he would've been cackling like a rambunctious magpie.
There were no lascivious little people, no scantly-clad water spirit - of course there wasn't! Encircling the large pool was nothing else but shrubs, thorns and herbage, and protruding from the water was just the gnarled remains of a fallen tree. Gnomes and a dancing slyph indeed. But what was I saying about the magical, dream-like quality of dusk? It can have the effect of masking normality and conjuring mirages to entertain the eyes of the wayward adventurer.
The bird of prey was real, mind - or at least I think it was...
Yesterday I was outside when the twilight descended, far away from the world's lights, alone within the solitude of a nameless nowhere... and what did I see?
From the eaves of a grove of pine trees (or were they firs?) I saw the stark silhouette of a bird of prey hovering low above a field, flapping its wings with looming promise. As I was trying to fathom what species it was (probably a kestrel), it swooped like a dive-bomber into a clump of long grass. Moments later it emerged and flew away with sharp speed over and to the left of where I stood. I struggled to ascertain whether there was a doomed little beastie clasped in its jowls, but to witness the antics of this feathered wonder at close quarters made for a special moment.
As the dusk deepened I wandered along a winding path which led my exploring boots to a sodden meadow, at the heart of which was a large pool, and in the gathering gloom my eyes fell on a most peculiar sight: seated around the pool's periphery was a ring of gnomes in dark-green attire watching a stripteasing slyph.
What in the name of the scurrying squirrel is this? I thought, my mind becoming a blurry pit of tangled fascination with every passing second. An enchanted silence fell on the surrounding landscape, with me like a ghostly scarecrow standing perfectly still as if embedded in the earth.
As I watched the slyph sway gently with arms outstretched like some fey belly dancer, my ears picked up the faint melody of what sounded like tinkling bells.
Doubt crept in.
I rubbed my eyes with the tops of my forefingers in that classic disbelieving way, then, after much blinking, refocused once again on the pool...
Huh, what a fool. I quickly came to the realization that the fading light was playing tricks on me. If that crow perched on that nearby branch knew of my delusion, he would've been cackling like a rambunctious magpie.
There were no lascivious little people, no scantly-clad water spirit - of course there wasn't! Encircling the large pool was nothing else but shrubs, thorns and herbage, and protruding from the water was just the gnarled remains of a fallen tree. Gnomes and a dancing slyph indeed. But what was I saying about the magical, dream-like quality of dusk? It can have the effect of masking normality and conjuring mirages to entertain the eyes of the wayward adventurer.
The bird of prey was real, mind - or at least I think it was...
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