It was a haze; a glow that could have only been spiritual, or for the atheists: global warming. It was so settled and calm and embracing. The pines of the evergreens far off on the hills caught different shades from the dips in depth as the hazy glow muted the rays of the sun. Driving by, one could smell the raw mint, the evergreen, and the chlorophyll. The air was visible as it touched the earth and wrapped itself around farmhouses. The farm fields were striped with melon yellow and summer green. I looked on continuing to save the words to describe the holiday. And as I looked on I began to wish that I could run the span of all those fields and maybe all the way up Pennsylvania’s hillside until I could no longer catch my breath. I wanted to touch one of those evergreens. I wanted to carve a pair of anonymous lovers’ names in the spiny bark as if it were a story of mine to tell. I could not help thinking that this all was beautiful as visible sunbeams encased the skyline. They looked so tangible. I told myself I could touch them. I had wanted to, but I never would. My human hands would have taken all the beauty away anyhow. I could only touch them with my eyes. I saw every dimension that the light had cast. Whenever beauty presents itself, I always want to ask it questions. I never bother to leave it alone. I gaze adoringly with eyes wide and mouth agape. I stare impolitely with awe written on my forehead, like a child seeing something for the first time. The air on my skin felt like a hot breath after the excursions of love made on a riverside. The sky was a globe delicately holding its contents. This all entered my mind in a moment; a moment I had wanted to relive moments after it was gone.