Sleeping fields in brooding monochrome. Like plaintive notes of a distant reed flute, a longing breaking at dusk— cadence of gathering dark. In the gloaming, trailing light in a bruised haze as summer evenings wane. Nighthawks— their solitude sharing the same sky, my sky.

A mauve May evening— verdant woods, mossy trails of jewelled jacarandas, amethyst in soft silhouette. Lilac flower-fall— flickering down like flecks of twilight, a drift of scattered petals. Floral fresco a dappled sunset purple, spring's delight of light and tender pastels.

Chrome-blue, braided in pearl and sapphire, flits a mason bee as riffs of murmuring wings ripple. It weaves through the grove cradling the blush of cherry blossoms. May, nestled in sylvan silk of roseate sheen. Paeans of petal pink, woodland remembering a wistful spring.

June, young in summer— by the brook, willow wands rustle, emerald tresses astir— a fluid adagio. Sylphlike wingbeats, skylarks rise from grasslands, their silver song unfolding in a lingering refrain. June, before summer deepens— dawn's reckoning, the sky a spectral blue.