Here is another excerpt from today’s typing:
Hawk Descending wondered it they were amid some chorus of singers, a symphony of musicians playing dulca pianissimo. He gazed around, but the glare of the sun troubled his eyes, making them water.
For a moment, he thought they were surrounded by an assembly of small beings. They were in the grass, in the trees, even floating in the air. There was no glade, no forest; only this audience of glittering beings. Each held a light, a candle, a shimmering crystal.
Wiping the tears from his eyes, he looked again and saw they were not beings, but colorful glimmers of light, as of a myriad of reflective crystals. And as each crystal gleamed with its own distinctive light, it vibrated, sounding its own note in the resulting chorus.
He rubbed his eyes again, and around him, he saw the grasses, the trees, a small stream, the blue sky. The chorus faded to the border of silence.