A Dark Night with Clear Air

It’s one of those nights where the sky is ink behind stars scattered so thick the shapes of constellations are obscured. Tonight, I lie in the grass; starlight is the only light, insect song the only sound. Tomorrow the moon will flirt below the horizon, the air grow heavy— humidity will spray a dull wash across the arc of planets— the march of the Zodiac will be veiled 
and the howls of the coyotes seem closer, as if they are just beyond the nearest ring of trees.

-Patricia Thrushart