Where the sidewalk ends

I found where the sidewalk ends. Little white flowers were growing there.

It was 7pm, the beginning of sunset, and in the cooling air I found a path, a little piece of forgotten wetland known only to wild animals and city waterworks employees, and undoubtedly to the adventurous children of our nearby streets.

Two deer have crossed my path, prancing high and elegantly across this flattened strip of earth that separates some isolated forest from the suburban neighborhood adjacent. A snake, which I think or at least fear was a water moccasin slithered just away from the wheels of my bike, and bear tracks helped show the best way to ford a small stream.

All of this exists within earshot of neighborhood, and is accompanied by the muffled sounds of dogs barking back and forth and children's evening laughter, and the constant backdrop of the main road through town.

It's a strip of land forgotten by development, which divides the space between the suburb and the military installation adjacent. Snakes and bears lend a watchful wildness to the cicada seasoned air as late summer rain clouds shift hues in time with the rotation of the earth.