The minutes of the drowsy evening pass uncounted. The fainting day washes the green trees in warm yellow. I have things to do, but I tarry here, satisfied for the moment, lost in the spell of evening. I am half dreaming.
I think the air is special tonight. I feel it on my skin like a gentle caressing. I know why men stop in the woods on a snowy evening. I stop to watch the setting sun. I forget, at times, the comfort of summer, for I love the terrible threat of winter, the produce of autumn, the growth of springāthe summer night has a magic in it all its own.
I will not stay forever, for I have things to do, but I will watch the evening fade to night.
Tale Told 