All Night

[rejectomorph]

There was no thunderstorm last night, but, as if in compensation for the spectacle denied me, the clouds never entirely departed and, through the jasmine scented hours (which were pleasantly cooler than I had expected), periodically wreathed the moon in vapors of varied densities, making it now a veiled presence barely visible, then a brighter half-orb able to coax vague shadows from the trees, while the clouds themselves borrowed the moons light, letting it play across their surfaces, or absorbing it into themselves so that great swaths of sky became pale, drifting illumination, all this movement bringing the night great interest and, ultimately, providing me with the imagery from which I have been able to construct this long and convoluted descriptive sentence. I can't say I regret not getting the thunder and lightning. As a result of its absence, I might even end up winning a Bulwer-Lytton prize! (Too late for 2005, though- I'll have to wait for 2006.)

Morning has now fully revealed the persistent cloud cover, which varies from alligator patches to sweeping arcs of cirrus, all floating in a pearly haze still underlit by the low sun whose beams, striking west, uninterrupted, have turned the yet youthful leaves of the oaks and needles of the pines to green fire. Should the clouds remain longer, once the sun has risen above them, today will be another moody day of intermittent gray, and this vivid glow will vanish. I'm glad I've seen it, but must close it out now and sleep.