The sun set gently in a whisper this evening, leaving behind a placid pastel sky streaked with timid pink clouds. Bats skirt the tops of the grasses that rise at the side of the road and there are people singing somewhere nearby, heard though unseen. It sounds like a hymn, some sort of praise, and fades in and out at the uncertain edge of dusk. A blessed coolness smooths the ragged mane of the day. imparts a hush, a sigh. Soon we will sleep. And dream.
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