This morning, the moon peeked at me from over the top of the Russell Senate Office Building as I passed by. It was soon lost among all the white stone buildings on the Hill.
By the time work was over, the moon had long since gone. Green-red traffic lights, honking cars, and familiar apartment buildings lined my walk home. I reached the last corner in no particular rush, Panera bag in hand, and feet reluctant to stop. My eyes happened to look up over the intersection and for the first time that evening, they saw a breath of cirrus clouds blown across the sky. For a moment, I wanted to stand there on that corner for the rest of the evening to watch the sky pass by. But then the white man lit up on the traffic light and my feet carried me on.
How I miss quiet evenings spent under the slowly rolling heavens!
Was the corn knee-high by the 4th of July, I wonder?