ORANGE ON A TABLE

The other night as I went out walking downmountain in the still air bequeathed to evening by a fine day, as I rounded a curve and emerged from behind the line of roadside trees that screened the Lake from view, there in the otherwise clear sky across the water was a long level of cloud stretched out perfectly flat like a table atop the far mountains, a table as draped in the sheen of fine gray silk. Resting atop the table was one very large, round and fully ripe orange, apart from the size and color having precisely the brightness of the moon, it's orange light speckling all the Lake like firework embers. I could only stand and watch it change as it rose, with the same feeling I get when cherry blossoms fall.