Sundown

A fog rises from the depths of Woodville as the sun slips behind the skyline of Blue Ridge. The moon and mars light the meadows perching over the quiet town. Headlights occasionally sparkle along the curves of Mary's Rock. The night before they could have been mine, but now I am here. In the spot where we always gather before departures force us into the places that are not nearby. For now everything is good; the company, the breeze, the view, the music, and the wine. Summer nights like this are not easily forgotten.