Pleasant clouds gathered last evening and grew more dense for several hours, until at times the moon was entirely obscured. Filtered moonlight filled the street with a soft glow. The air's dense stillness suggested the possibility of a thunderstorm, but then a breeze arose and diminished the clouds, revealing a late moon no more than hazed and haloed. It's light caught by rooftop vents and television aerials glinted back at the filmy radiance of the sky. The crickets never ceased their chirps. Now the remaining clouds that cling to the edges of the world flush pink as dawn nears. The night was like chilly satin, the dawn is like the rustle of cool silk.