Light Enduring

[rejectomorph]

The moon shone fitfully behind the mass of drifting clouds that were like dark, silver-veined marble. The diffused light made a deep dusk which lasted all night, illuminating each object in a world barely shadowed. There was a thin fog which lent the air a gauzy quality, and each sound was as sharp as the pervasive chill. It was a perfect night for listening to footsteps. I walked up the street, where the strew of pine needles covers the pavement, and I could even hear the slight squish of the water my weight squeezed from them with each step. Not a breath stirred below the windblown clouds. For hours, the serenity prevailed. Then there was a sudden intrusion of brightness. My early-rising neighbor across the street had turned on her porch light. The spell of night was broken. There are moments when I feel like cursing Thomas Edison and all his progeny. I returned indoors and turned out all my lights, and sat in the dark silence until the first car of morning passed along the road to town.