A summer night

I went for a walk in the pasture as it was getting dark.

There was a skeleton of a long-dead hawthorn tree.


When I turned around, the crescent moon was sinking in the west.


Later, much later, I sat under the night sky with a blanket wrapped around me, enjoying the constellations, shooting stars, the coyotes’ serenade, until the cloud cover spoiled it all and I went inside.

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