Wooly

The clouds hunkered down and made the night dense, so that walking into it was like pushing through veils of darkness and becoming lost among them. I didn't go far. Somewhere at the back of my mind was that old belief that deep darkness is always filled with bears.

Somehow, I didn't get around to writing my November 27th nostalgia piece. I've been quite distracted lately. More than usual, I mean, since I'm well aware that distraction is my normal state. But recently there have been times when I have gathered so much wool that hours pass without notice. I think I might be in a state of semi-hibernation. If this is the case, then the darkness does indeed contain at least one bear, of a sort.

Not for long, as the sun already threatens the eastern horizon with another day. I shall now bury myself under the night's gathered wool and sleep. Things are much too strange.

Update: I forgot to mention this, for people who don't read the community; Go see the current mood of LiveJournal. The link was posted in lj_nifty by evan.

Wet

The mist which dampened the gray afternoon became a sprinkle, and is now a drizzle. Dank leaf mold scents the cold air, mingling with the smell of wood smoke. I hear birds squawking nearby, and the thump made by a woodpecker seeking its dinner in the telephone pole. Mostly, I hear the sound the rain makes, like the applause of a Lilliputian audience. Fading light deepens the gold of the remaining oak leaves and the red that still clings to the dogwood, and shadow slips out from under bushes and trees and overtakes the lawns and flower beds and the deserted street. The moon is concealed by the clouds, but I imagine its light gleaming on the billowing fields, displacing sunset's pink and mauve with silver. From here below, I might soon see its faint glow amid the mottled drifts, but this night is destined to be dark and filled with drumming raindrops. I expect to enjoy it.