Orion is high in the sky tonight, bright despite the streetlights. Seeing The Warrior stalk the winter sky always reminds me of the first time I marvelled at his soft underbelly, milky nebulae among the stars, visible even with Grandpa’s old binoculars. That first night was silent, except for crickets, and gentle too; a sweet dew-soaked grassiness hung heavily in the August air. Those were simple times at the cabin, slower. There was no urgency aside from eager anticipation as Orion crested the horizon that night.

You Might Also Like