June 6th, 2004

caillebotte_man at his window

Each Night More Brief

The June-pale night glows, each form outlined and crisp, the air iridescent with both moonlight and skylight, and the crickets never cease to sound their calls. A far off dog barks. I am reminded of the foxes I no longer hear, of the years they roamed, when more trees made the nights darker, more mysterious, and the stars were more numerous. The passage of a car along the highway is marked by the flash of its headlights illuminating branches and leaves. As the hum of its engine vanishes, the first bird of morning breaks into exuberant song, so loudly that only a moment passes before other birds join in. The night seems barely to have begun before it is washed by new light.

Collapse )