About a month to the summer solstice and the light gets long.
At the top of the hill hulk a pack of goats, a smell of hay in the long evening and a bit of the crooked-eyed farm feeling. A blackbird with a colorful chest twitters on a bare shrub on the way back to the trail top.
The roar of the freeway hums in the distance. Two uncertain lovers hug and pretend to warm each other up as an excuse to feel the electricity of their bodies close. It’s hot.
The wind blows. A crisp clean nonscent borne from the ocean, maybe just the hint of saltspray, clearing the air with it. The air crisp, a few birds of different species chirping. The light growing longer, filtering that saffron, electric neon light enflaming the grass, flowers, hills, sky, water, mountains,