five of us after dinner

you said it would be a beautiful night to go blueberry picking and see fireflies. i'd never even thought to put the three together, night, and berry picking, and fireflies. yes, why not. and out the front door, the short way to the car was the remarkable moon. a full moon. you said it would be a lovely night for stars.

five of us after dinner, that inertia of dododosomething that is made for the nightswish of a car. who'd think to tour a city in the dark? but the moon is full and there is a tower overlooking the city on the hill where the poets sat. of course through a forested road up a hill. climb that black scaffolding of steps and gaze through the arched windows at the resting of each flight. finally the sky, the deep sky of a city in a bowl of mountains. in the dark you said, what was fantastic is during the fall, the foliage. pinched your thumb and forefinger into an inch of circle saying i could never count the number of colors i could see through this in the fall.

and a ghost story of a railway accident under the bridge near the children crossing sign. all those children who died in the crash are trying to push your car to safety from the tracks. if you put your gears to neutral you'll feel them pushing you away. true enough, the car rolled uphill.

at the community college there was a sign that read labyrinth. you'd been looking for it four years and almost believed the sign was a practical joke. well we found it at last after wandering to the edge of the field, skirting the perimeter and looking for likely gaps in the trees. it was etched in the grass unobtrusive and resplendent.

after that we walked to the pond where the frogs were playing the monday night symphony glorious and noisy. and the ducks were swimming. five of us after dinner.