She stood there, in the middle of the path as it snaked through the park, along the river. She closed her eyes and let the night sounds permeate. The muted rush of the water flowing nearby, the high pitched hum of the cicadas, the staccato chirps of the crickets starting their nocturnal crescendo. Cracks of the night animals starting their evening romp.
The night skies hung low overhead, a smoky dark blue, impending clouds a barrier, blocking the glimmering stars. The threat of rain a blanket hugging her lonely, chilled body.
The path possessed an element of magic on this night. Soft glow of the lamplight casting pleasantly eerie shadows, dancing in the evening breeze. When winter comes, white will blanket this path; the benches, lampposts, and shrubbery glistening mounds of dust. Falling in delicate silence, creating her very own Narnia.