Phoebe Conrey
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The Oak Tree

The Oak Tree

Apr 23, 2020

Just a little piece of writing I did on a warm summer's day.

The shadows had grown longer as the sun bathed the area in a tranquil golden haze. Still not quite setting but sinking lower and lower. The sun’s unusually harsh light had subsided to a soft glow. An oak tree stretching out to one side as if it had semi lost its balance but still standing elegantly-tall. The golden haze of the late afternoon sun dusted the leaves of the tree, turning the colour a lime green that is only the slightest bit luminescent. The sun cresting in the fork of the trunk, several feet above the ground, shot out flower petal rays blanketing a small area beyond the tree in light.

Surrounding it hundreds upon thousands of dust like bugs whizz about. Only noticeable to the naked eye when the light reflected off their wings just right, glittering for a moment before they would disappear from view. Others a little distance away could be seen hovering and twirling in a nonsensical pattern. The motion of the group seemed to be in sync but at the same time out of sync. Twirling, whizzing, swaying and dancing in the light. The only time they were visible was in the warm golden strands of sunlight in the late afternoon. Otherwise, they would be hidden from view, like dust that cannot be seen but is always there.

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