You hear the crickets chirping
Just as they've been doing all night.
The water gushes
As it streams past you steadily
The meandering flow reaches the horizon.
The crows coww
You look up to see a long line of them
They're all sitting and watching you calmly-hungrily.
The bushes sway in the gusts of wind
Fruit hangs from their branches
Fresh and ripe, the farmer hasn't picked them yet.
The spider sleeping in its cobweb
The frog in the middle of the road
The cat, watching lazily from the roof.
The dark color of the fruit
The pale color of the grass
They all blur as you focus on something new.
You hear them before you see them
The sleek, lethal shapes
All armed to the teeth.
Helicopters.
It's August 7th, 2008.
Welcome to Georgia.
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