The Lyrids are flying. Tomorrow they will peak. Weather permitting Lisa and I will be out fishing for them.
We went out tonight to test the waters. As soon as the coffee was made the clouds rolled in, we went out just the same.
I am easily discouraged these days; clouds, moon interfering. I long for dark skies with starlight so bright it casts shadows, the treetops tangled in a bottomless sky and the rivers running silver.
Souls, like bats, fly so close they take my breath when I duck my head.
Lisa pushes me until I see the beauty.