Tonight I Can Write…

Water lapped at my ears.

A breeze arrived, late after a very hot day.

I looked up, allowed my pupils to dilate, and my eyes to open to the dim early night.

A bank of puffy clouds rose like mountains to my left, their cottony mass illuminated in other-worldly light.

Seeking the source of such brilliance, my eyes traveled to the right, and there, hidden behind a towering pine tree, was a half-moon, glowing the palest shade of lemon.

It turned another group of clouds a soft wintergreen color, a gloriously strange cross between lime and mint green, something that could never be duplicated, that must be enjoyed and looked upon at this one and only moment.

This was a summer night, filled with half a moon, and haunted by a fluttering bat.

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