Vespers

    Everything dulls as evening drifts in, dragging its feet across the sky, forlorn. Orange glow from streetlights and headlights begins to illuminate a park next to a road. There is a tree there underneath the sky a girl there underneath the tree. And she has big wet eyes and she's crying. She's got bare knees that smell like grass.
    Tears are racing to see which can jump off her skin the fastest, reach the finish line, pleck on the ground beneath the tree. They don't really care who wins, they just feel compelled to go, rush against all the tiny crevasses in her face, unaware that gravity is their motivation. Unaware of anything. A tiny little system, all contained in a drop, not blissful but at least content, pulled by the same things we are. Everything is pulled by the same things.
    The girl though, she starts to run. Feet push against the ground and she is FIGHTING gravity but also utilizing it. Evening is descending beautifully, clouds absent, and though there aren't any stars (the streetlights serve that purpose, I suppose) everything is still visible, all apparent, all very much tangible and real.
    She is crying  because the world is beautiful and she can't think of anything else to say.