First it was the bright dot of Venus running from the moon. Later that same evening the crescent moon settled into roughly banked clouds so as to look like a cockle shell boat cresting a storm-tossed wave. Night passed rainless, and deer visited the street, spotting me when they tripped the motion sensing yard light next door. They were illuminated better than I, and I saw them watching me as they stood like statues, no longer grazing the flowers. Then they began stepping slowly, seeking the pine shadowed stretch of street which would conceal them from my alien gaze. Once there, I heard their hooves clopping faster as they departed, and I saw vague shapes flickering into the brush. Hours of quiet solitude ensued. Very late, neighbors up the street arose early and let a shaft of light escape their opened garage door. It fell across the leafless dogwood in their yard, and the tree's twiggy gray branches suddenly glowed, looking as though sculpted from ice. Then I went indoors and made the bed down and prepared for sleep.