The night has been a series of variations. Each time I have gone out, it has been slightly changed. First the sky was clear, except for a few thin clouds which rode on the southern horizon like slightly darker patches of blue against the moonlit sky. Later, the moon was partly veiled by a swath of buttermilk clouds. Then, the clouds thickened and the light was scattered and reflected among their drifting masses. Now, the moon is only a suggestion of brightness in the dark west. The air is cool and damp and faintly scented with honeysuckle. Soon the glow of dawn will appear behind the trees over the back fence, but it will be less bright than it has been in recent days, when the clouds were few and glowed pink with the new day. Across the street there are roses blooming, and the color of those roses is only a few shades darker than the clouds of dawn have been. For some reason, that similarity pleases me. I am wondering what shade these heavier clouds will be, today.