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Night Weather



The moon was broad and nestled in a circle of cloud. The other half of the sky flicked up a sheet of lightening. Such fascination, like a pin through a moth. Another strike illuminated the castle, another backlit the tree tunnel. A fox-face, vivid orange, retreated into a verge; an owl’s belly, ghost white, brushed over the windscreen.

(Not until the next afternoon do we hear thunder. It rolls out of pure summer blue, turns the sky flat silver. Raindrops like crystals split the light into shining arcs.)

A perfect round, the moon returns. All the sky is velvet. Voices are raised in the car park, tempers that rush and exhaust themselves to a truce. The storm wind halts. A man walks slowly back to his car, shoulders hunched. The car alarm starts up. He stops and looks at the moon: looks at the moon and glances at his car door as he pushes the key into the lock. The alarm stops. The perfect round moon, the cessation of anxious noise, it seems connected.




Comments

Geo. said…
An engaging tableau. Its elements do seem connected, as continents are connected by the bright moon, by raised voices in car parks. Beautifully described.
9 October 2014 at 02:34
Lisa Southard said…
Here's to calm reaching all the car parks of the world :-) I hope this makes sense, I'm quite tired enough to be typing complete nonsense. If this makes sense it probably means I've put the coffee pot in the washing machine.
9 October 2014 at 21:52
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