Clocks Reset

The moon finds the western sky filled with fine mist unwilling to settle to mere earth. Hazed, its light scatters and disperses night. Dark pines hold fast the shadows, but their upper branches seem frosted by that aimless light, so that their clumps of dried needles glow pale gold. Utterly still, all night the air has been chilled by the cries of invisible hawks and fevered by the scent of flowers. Vapor and incongruity make me wonder if I have dreamed that I am awake.

( Sunday Verse )

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My Opera ad banner offered the following related searches when I logged in to LJ this morning:

*April fool * prank * livejournal

Ah, fame.