We rested in the shade of the hanging moss,

In a heat that had cast fire into the soul of the earth.

Humidity, an invisible bond,

Slid over our skin like a thread of mist,

And the cicadas plucked a stroke upon the strings of the night's silence.

In the distance, in the echo of that melody,

The birds soared,

Their nests, a faint point in the sunlight.

And we, in a timeless silence,

Watched the sky change,

As it grew heavier,

Until the clouds slowly turned from white, to gray, to black.

Then, a cool breeze,

A gentle caress upon our cheeks,

And a smile that, at the same moment, bloomed upon both our lips.