The Hills

The light was very clear. The sky was uninterrupted by clouds or haze or birds. It was just blue. It was sharp. The hills were soft, mohair covered swells like camels sleeping, their lumberous backs still as the air was still. The trees that lined the base of the hills, each of the many of them, were deeply green as if shadowed, but there were no shadows. The pieces of earth and sky were so perfectly matched that the distinct boundary between them was as much a connector as a separator.