Bella Luna

My grumpy, sleepy profile was washed in orange sodium light for a brief second in the rearview mirror, and I glanced up above the trees and old Chevys piloted by chain smoking litterbugs to behold a yellow moon in a velvet-soft, midnight sky.

Oh, the little trifles that concern me.  Something cares not as it gazes down, lit without eyes and reflecting light into mine - it exists and has existed, its birth a mystery, a source of wonder for millenia.  O stars, suck my soul through these fragile apertures - or dear god, take away my humanity and turn my concerns from this heavy idiocy to the heady simplicities of food and mating.

Would I wonder at the millions of varieties of greens beneath the afternoon canopy...