This time of year, I go off alone, because no one understands the way it all crushes me. Like that Dave Matthews song. The cicadas begin to hypnotize, and I get lost in my wanderings. No longer thinking, just a feeling on my skin~it's the sky, tenderly pink, the corn stalks beginning to silhouette, the hollow musical sound of the black water stream.

It's that magic hour where you can feel *Pan* begin to change us into different creatures; creatures who are more ourselves, more who we want to be. The light hides us just enough so that we are not sure what we are seeing in each other. Not sure how old we are any longer.

I can see your eyes with the slightest shine; and I like to think we are connected in this magical way, which maybe only I know about it, but you can feel it. I know it must end, pretty soon actually....but while it lasts it is oh so pure and light, and makes me sigh with such pleasure~