Chasing Leaves

We walked this morning both lost in thought, mine as fleeting as the swirling leaf ever just out of Dalton's reach. We wandered unaware into the open field, our noses to the ground. The Captain bellowed a warning from afar. I was struck back with a flash of white, like a bolt of lightening searing across a black spring sky. Chiaroscuroed clouds hovered uneasy over the lake, magnifying the white heat radiating off the Captain's back. Boreas was not one to be left out; he charged in with enthusiasm. The clouds shifted and rolled around the sky; even they seemed desperate to find shelter. But as they huddled together, they cut out the light, and the lake sank back under a hooded shadow. Now safe, we returned to chasing leaves.