WickedEye's Quotient

6/01/2007 at 00:59

Hidden by the sleeve of Night and Morn

Drove around Devil’s Kitchen Lake a few nights ago, windows down (always down) in the warm, misty shadows, turning vistas beckoning and scrolling before me.

Around the next curve I saw pinprick flashes of light over a tall-grassed meadow, the air randomly phosphorescent at a thousand evanescent points of suddenly-not-dark, and hit the brakes, pulling into grass tall enough that it stood at chin level when I opened my door.

I climbed onto the car roof, into dusky air alive with a luminance dancing and flitting like weightless, flickering stars. I sat for an hour as the sky sank to black, watching them.

Then I drove home. And I fell asleep with the pirouetting sparks still whirling around me, thousands of lightening bugs, close around and above, calling for mates in a lustrous dark, in vapor-ribboned air that smelled of rain.


Post a Comment

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs2.5 License.