rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,

Dead of Night

The waxing moon sneaks among the treetops. Summer night's shadows run long, and barely move as the north wind sets the pine needles humming. A delightful chill enlivens the air, as though the night anticipated the coming of autumn. After moonset, the trees shrink back into the deepening darkness, and the sky grows large with stars. Only a few crickets still sing. For an hour, the only other sound is a single bark from a dog. It feels as though dead of night might go on forever.
  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 1 comment