| Late Dawn |
[Oct. 23rd, 2003|05:36 am]
rejectomorph
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There is a definite dampness to the air this moonless night, and a fuzziness to the sky that obscures now one patch of stars, now another. The scent of dew reminds me of how much I would like a fog. I'm not likely to get one anytime soon. A motion-sensor yard light flicks on at the end of the block. The boles of trees flash into existence, and I hear the sharp crack of a twig. The gray form of a deer, surprised by the sudden artificial dawn, is walking cautiously across the corner lot. It vanishes behind the intervening brush, but I hear its hooves clop softly on the street as it moves toward the protective darkness. Once it is out of range of the sensor, the light goes out.
It must have reached the soft lawn of the house across the street by then, and was swallowed into the deep stillness of late night. A bit later, the thin rind of the waning moon appeared among the pine branches to the northeast, bringing them out of darkness, but just barely. It will be more than an hour before the pale light of morning will begin to reveal them in greater detail. The early commuters whose cars I now hear passing will reach their destinations before the sun shows itself today. Late October brings the latest dawns of the year, since the clocks will be set back before the month ends. I enjoy these dark mornings, and did so even during those times when I had to rise and go out into them. I much prefer them to dark evenings, and will miss them when they are gone. |
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