The song becomes clearer, not a song with words, humming, with a smattering of rustling branches accentuating the beat.
Clouds move out, branches become a sieve for the evening sun, the unknown push into sight. The reflection of the setting orb danced over the iridescent wings of swarming bodies. Mosquitoes search for their prey.
Light reflecting off the trees caught my eye. Unsure of what was causing this neat-looking spectacle, I had a look through the binoculars. What I saw was the furthest thing from my mind.
The shard shaped light hanging from the tree branches was a combination of spider webs, wet branches, and what I call tree fluff. The glow moving away from the tree was a swarm of mosquitoes.
Of course, I had to find a way to get close enough to take a picture of what I was seeing through the binoculars.
Side Note: A swarm of mosquitoes, as I prefer to call them, I have been told, is called a scourge.