Anna French
February 15, 2015
The sun’s rays race toward the horizon, giving birth to hues of emeralds and peaches. White sails drift through the choppy waters and tropical birds glide through the clouds eagerly headed to their destinations.
The nectar of fruit and flowers call the bees home, and the buzz of mosquitoes harmonizing in the distance commences. The glow of the moon’s surface slowly brightens, making its presence known. The tide flirts with the shoreline obeying gravity. The constellations flicker playfully above, reflecting off the dark water. The flames of fisherman’s fires glisten in the distance, pulling my focus from the ripples of waves. The fireflies deceivingly dance around the moon, mimicking the stars, and I am hooked.
The warm breeze carries intoxicating voices from the village and the dew of dusk makes the air thick around me. The shadows of trees surrounding the lake firmly stand their ground, mapping out the skyline. The silence reveals echoes of children praying. Hopeful Swahili words float into the sky, heard only by those still enough to recognize their beauty.
The moment is fresh and pure but the clarity is fleeting and exchanged for the fog of reality. Each breathe is heavy with truth, and each exhale parts gently with worry. Midnight brings friends with sharp teeth, big feet, and scaly skin. Illuminated by moonlight, each creature slithers, tramples and swims around on the hunt. The melody replays as the scene fades and each movement represents life. All the while the sun lurks loyally nearby, awaiting the moment it will meet the moon once more.
