I must address you on an evening stroll of some concern. Please forgive the utlimaphysical turns of this missive.
The bird on the night perch sang from the park, melancholy tones for the past day. Often early in the evening I strolled the perimeter of light our city streets framed around the wooded expanse. But without illumination, god knows what sort haunted the deep expanse of green. The birds song slowed as the last pink fingers of sun retreated behind westward climbs; giving way to a chorus of crickets.
The night was common except in the regard for the heat. A weeping southern heat that wilts the soul. This was out of place! Our warmth correctly bleached and dried and our humidity cold and falling, as God fearing people should have. We carried on, the night air some relief to savor.
My stroll had been slow in pace this night, rounding the first corner somewhat later in the evening than Hoped I was surprised by the lights that could been seen deep within the wold of the park. It was not prepared for gas and certainly not electrified but there were lights. Queer green lamps caught and missed then caught again. Perhaps the geography of the greensward tricked the watching eye, though even to this I am unsure.
Unsure this is perhaps the one element I am sure of. My eyes were they weary or some strange haze. Foxfire?! But upon their nearing I saw cruel eyes.
I fear dearest friends I fear