Elle's fictional prose

Summer nights (E)

The daily summer drone of cicadas, almost a white noise in its constancy, transitions into the familiar chirp of crickets that beckons evening rituals of rest and relaxation. The crackle of dry tea tree on the fire and the rustle of nylon sleeping bags in the foreground bring back childhood memories, and as I listen, the gentle murmur as water tumbles gently over the nearby creek bed comes into focus, reminding me of the farm. A lone morepork flying over the bush steals the show, sending an eerie hoot echoing over the valley.


Written 26 May 2018