Night Walk

Thickening clouds allow a mere ghost of the waning moon to penetrate, and the sky around it is brighter than the ground where but the dregs of its light fall. The forest is wrapped in mystery, dim and darkling, yet not utterly obscured. I hear an owl hoot, and wonder what its keener eyes see. Though the night remains cold, I sense a warmth in the darkness, as though I had been wrapped in its cloak, protected from the prying breeze. The owl might see me, but I could slip past any human gaze as easily as a wraith -- the air so dense, not even my muffled footfalls would betray my presence.

Crap

I saw no more than a tiny sliver of day this evening. Woke up at sunset. I saw a chunk of day right in the middle, though. About ten o'clock, the guy came to fix the automatic garage door opener, which freaked out my second cat, who came into my room to hide and proceeded to knock things over, disturbing the first cat (who sleeps on my bed) thus creating a contretemps which woke me up. I wasn't ready to get up, so made the mistake of going back to sleep, but only after making the greater mistake of opening the heater vent to take a bit of the chill out of the room. I forgot to close it again, and fell into that leaden, heat-induced sleep from which it is nearly impossible for me to wake. I hate missing the entire afternoon. Stupid garage door.