Outside, the night has reached perfection. The moonless sky reveals an abundance of stars, and the river of the Milky Way. A soft air flows from the higher lands, waking leaves to the faintest rustle and the pine needles to a whispered hum. The chirping of the crickets is slow, hypnotic, and as calm as the glittering dome of sky is vast. Night is the best part of summer. Too soon, the first birds sing to the cobalt light that displaces stars, and the brief hours of respite draw to an end. Under the hammer of blazing sun we pay for soft nights.