Feeling Decemberish

[rejectomorph]

The moon has made an appearance tonight, pale and slightly gibbous, veiled by thin clouds. No rain is falling, but the saturated ground emits the odor of damp. The still air condenses my breath in slow drifts of fog. A few houses now sport twinkling Christmas lights, but these do not compensate for the absence of most of the stars. The gloaming's dim light reveals pine branches drooping with the burden of moisture they yet carry from the recent rains, and the quiet is occasionally broken by the sound of its dripping. All the birds have fallen silent. At nightfall, December nights seem to stretch ahead like long tunnels with no light at their end.