The Blue Ridge Parting

Forewarning: Wes got me really high before I wrote this:

Similar to Shenandoah, the leaves are doing a little dance above us. Moments of stillness are shorter, with ones of movement being more aggressively disordered. Trunks blend into a black abyss below the canopy. Leaves create the only forms; only through their shadows, in which light made an appearance elsewhere. Moon shows little presence and darkness looks empty. Draconian meteor shower blankets the darkness, among a speckle of sharp stars. This view is mostly shielded and only allowing of a glimpse when the branches above agree to it. Touching leaves part ways for a bit as they stretch to the lengths in which their branches allow. Possibly touching another leaf in the extreme of its respective reach. Branches never separate in a clean manner, nor are previous separations repeated. Changing, kinetic patterns and figures are formed, put on a brief show, and flatten out once again as the stretch is exhausted. Rabbit, in all its fluffiness. Cowboy jumping up and down as his knees bow. Baseball mitt, held open and downward, as if ready to catch a grounder. Rooster taking a step. Man climbing a rope. Each of them only existing long enough to be discovered and then disappearing, probably never to make the exact appearance again. Inconsistent, variable interaction between trees and wind create a rough form, which required such specific inputs. Sound creates a scene which embodies very little wind. Without aid from my eyes, it sounds as if a valve-controlled waterfall is being toggled near me. Not heard from the base of the falls. Sound similar to atop a wide, rapid waterfall. Water shooting off the edge, as droplets collide in the air and make continual little smacks along the wall below, before reaching a pool. Though there is no waterfall near my hammock. Only a rushing wind, finding every way to penetrate and push through this forest. Trees attached, I sway back and forth with the wind. Everyone has laid in a hammock at some point and realized the only thing missing is somebody nearby to give it an occasional nudge. Movement of the trees and gusts of wind are providing the push, for now. Gentle nudges with movement of the trees, complimented by steady sways from the wind. Windy sway also comes with a bit of chill. Atop my down sleeping pad, I feel only warmth, but leave an arm outside of it, against the thin hammock material, to feel brisk contrast. I take in the spectacle from my cozy cocoon, within the cradle of my elevated abode. Hueso and I exchange agreements of flabbergasted awe. He's zipped up his bug net after a leaf took on the role of a torpedo. Times like this put us at a point where hanging hammocks makes us giddy and a few perfectly placed trees are followed by a massive high-five. We've arrived back on the Blue Ridge Parkway, giddy as can be, and she's reciprocating the excitement with a little wind dance for us.