Cloak of Darkness

Standing at the hoop house, I hear animal noises across the road. Goats? Chickens/ Something more sinister?

I don't know.










What's there,
what lies beyond, 
remains a mystery.

Skystruck

I remember stars and moon and planets. Inky sky. Satellites tracking. But only on a cove in North Carolina, and on weekends at the Warrior River, and even sometimes in my own yard.

But those viewings were a long time ago. 

Childhood was a long time ago.

Not until I moved to Tennessee a little less than 15 years ago, to one tiny town and then another small one, did I truly see sky and skylights again.

Now I seek them out.

(Note to self: avoid photo forays in frigid temperatures. No wonder my fingers hurt, reddened, went numb. Bookmark this chart!)

Reprieve

through another's
windows elsewhere
blinded and curtained
faint light
darkness
welcome silence