Though the sky is bright, not a single bird has made a sound. The stillness is so profound that it seems as though town and forest have been placed under some enchantment which only I have escaped.
I'm recalling a moment when the moon was low, and the only shaft of its light to pass the wall of trees silvered the boles of two pines next door, and illuminated a single window where I thought I saw a ghostly face. All else was darkness.
I hope there is a newspaper lying on the driveway. If not, I will worry.