We race to the back door, gather our things, and head out into the night.
The streets are silent, but a gentle wind. The boulevard lights that usually guide our way – out, yet the evening greets us brighter.
I look up past the empty maple that stretches high above our rooftop. The moon is full. It looks so lonely up there. Forgotten. Even the stars grace the evening sky, so often eclipsed by the yellow glow of row, upon row.
The night’s alive in this borrowed light, with artful shadows and cobalt skies, seasoned timbers reaching out, into these surreal hub-urban skies.
A voice in the distance calls the wolf moon. She stops. Still.
Calling again. A calendar stance. Perplexed? Orienting. Giving ear to the message of this night.
We continue on our way, pausing occasionally to appreciate this gift.
Moonlit walk on loan. The night light our elders had known.
If only the yellow night turned down, when the new moon began to crown.
Confidently Into The Horizon
Three Words: sequestered, caliginous, incandescent
Word Count: 250
Sequestered by a world he had once believed so strongly in, Jonah went from having everything a man could ever dream of to what, for some, seemed nothing.
He tried hard not to judge others with haste; to see the best in everyone. At 40 though, his heart could no longer ignore the caliginous side of man. Even now, left with nothing but a run down wood A-frame shack, an old Ford, a fresh journal, and a half eaten pen, he still believed in the good of man somewhere in his heart.
Thoughts once lost in transition amongst the windowless walls of his white office, now sailed across the waters, collected in the fresh northern air, and carried in song by the birds that had become his morning sounds of traffic.
In the evenings, as Jonah lay on the shore taking in the Northern Lights, he wondered if his once lost dreams had ever really been alone. Perhaps those shooting stars were not just an incandescent sky, but millions of homeless ambitions passing life by.
“Here’s my shrinks card. She’s not really that good, but she has a great ass.”
It was that sordid sentiment from an equally distasteful co-worker, that consumed what little patience Jonah had left for the corporate world.
Jonah watched his companion through his rear view mirror. Her head hanging over the rear bench seat, looking back on their adventure into town and their hike through the mountains.
He slows. Stops. A stray cow. Traffic jam.
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