Garden Bench and Quivering Lights

A lingering aura of longings for love and intimacy shrouds the lone garden bench. The crown of the pine beside the bench, barely a shelter, sways in the afternoon breeze and variegates the grass-carpet with quivering lights that seem to speak a language out of this world.

If you sit on the bench, you become one with the longings, and if you hear mumble, maybe, just maybe you have stumbled on the quivering lights tittle-tattling.