Myriad rays of sunset light draped over the canopy of trees, cloaking the verdure in a layer of orange-red gauze. The birds returning home at dusk showed no signs of fatigue or thirst, their repeated cries around their nests intensifying the loneliness of the deep mountain forest.
With the setting of the sun and the rising of the wind, everything quietly changed, as if all was about to depart, as if all was about to cease, as if all were intentionally avoiding something.
The sun dipped below the horizon, and a hundred birds returned to the forest. Although the scene was not as brilliant as the dawn, there was another kind of beauty that one could not help but marvel at.
Because of the afterglow of the sunset, all things were cast in a golden orange glow, looking especially delicate and charming. Sadly, many plants withered away with the setting sun, juxtaposing their beauty with aging and sorrow, bringing a sense of melancholy and loss to those who saw it.
