Free Writing

I gaze at the stars above the towering trees, and what do I see but the gentle look of reprimand from Her. 

Will I ever be free of censure?

The moon drifts out from behind a cloud and my eyes follow the fluffball as it cruises the sky.

My eyes drift closed to the soothing sounds of cicadas chirping and the lazy hush-hush of breezes blowing agains the tall columns of grass.