It was quiet as I slipped out of the house. The summer night air was warm and calm. No wind, no clouds, no traffic. Just me and the warm air and the night sky. There was a higher breeze. One that ruffled the tops of the trees, but left the grass below still. I quickly made my way to the swing that sits underneath the old rock maples. I pushed back the canopy to the swing, to watch the stars in their night song as they played in the sky above me. Saturn and Spica were clear in the sky dotted with a thousand lights. For some reason, the night sky was more vibrant tonight. I don’t know why. Possibly because I am aging?

Regulus peeked behind Mars as the sun faded into the west and all traces of the daylight were gone. Crickets and frogs began to sing in the darkness that surrounded me. The night air was warm and thick, but not muggy. The breeze that once only ruffled the tops of the trees now played with the grass below, swaying it to and fro, tickling my ankles. There were no fireflies in the distance, and I did not catch a glimpse of any shooting stars, but I heard the song of the night. The melody that played for those brief few minutes, before I was missed in my world and had to return. I am happy