Outside One Evening

The light slants sideways, dripping down the dark brown bark slowly as the voice full of words hums on and on. A tall ivy clothed tree stump glitters green against the gold of the setting sun. And twisting between the slender white poplar trunks are curls and wisps of smoke, rising from the mouths of mellow young men. A white circle of it floats, expanding and dissipating in the cooling air. She holds her phone sideways, her thumbs tracing across its screen at intervals. He absentmindedly fidgets with his pipe and the paper in his lap. Another hurriedly takes notes writing down things as if a life depended on it. And I wonder which of us is missing out on the most.