Deeper

It's chilly tonight at the lake. Not a night for swimming. A night for looking, listening. The stars hang over the high Eastern horizon where they've burned holes in the indigo velvet of the night. Above the foothills the moon rises. It's quiet, even as a shadow slips across the garden. Some nocturnal creature hunched near the ground. An owl passes on silent wings and here we are, in the dark, in a valley between ancient volcanos and their basalt remains. Here we are; ephemera.