STARLIGHT

Last night as I was coming up the mountain road (no streetlights) accompanied by a complex frog and cricket a capella with the occasional cry of a lovelorn hawk, backed by the wind rustling in the drying autumn bamboo or combing itself though the remaining rice stalks, over me the full night sky like a jeweler's velvet cast with diamonds beyond reach, just above the trees along the ridge, following me up the road, was a remnant of a sliver of the moon, attached to the dark blue yolk of itself in a lighter darkness, a delight-bright cheshire-cat grin slowly sliding down the horizon and on to other eyes around the world. Then suddenly all was only starlight, showing me the eyes I really have.