Watership Down

The other night, Ross and I were looking for your tree. The sun was setting deep in the sky, and a solitary bird was singing in it. I could not tell your tree apart from the other trees at first, but Ross found it as if by instinct. The branches were stretching out into the sky. There was something mystical about it all. The light fading, the bird guiding Ross it. The branches melting into a quiet sea of sky.

And, as we were leaving the park, a dozen rabbits came out of nowhere. Their silhouettes creeping across the grass. Moving slowly and carefully in the darkness. I felt as if we were living among the pages of Watership Down, watching the rabbits take refuge, in the safety of their own shadows.

It seemed fitting, for the night to end this way.