It is the hush after the sun goes down. You can still hear the hum of highway traffic in the distance, but under the darkening blanket of the sky, the trees whisper to each other. Lights turn off one by one in the neighborhood, as the rabbits creep out of their dens to forage.
A rotted bench stands underneath towering tree-trunks, beckoning you closer. It’s old and getting cold, but you lie down anyway to stare up at the blue-black expanse as the winking stars slowly emerge. For a moment, the world is turned upside down and you could tumble up to the tops of the trees and into the net of constellations above.
In that moment, you remember the immensity of the world. There is a foretelling of Spring Peepers on the breeze and the scent of crisp melting snow mingling with the musk of mossy earth and fallen leaves that comes before the smoke of midnight bonfires. You breathe in the song of renewal and golden days to come.