Slowly, the clouds ensnared the moon once again, at last concealing it. The shadows vanished until the neighbor across the street turned her porch light on. Then, the front of my house turned bright and the white garage door bore the still shadows of a rotund bush and a slender lamppost. They reminded me of Laurel and Hardy. A few drops of rain fell, and the frogs who had been silent for a time began croaking again. I pictured the ripples scoring their pond. By then, the sky was growing pale. Soon, a woodpecker of little sense perched on a mailbox up the street and began periodically to drum on it. It sounded as though the Chipmunks were making a steel band record. I decided I needed sleep, badly.