Midsummer, approaching midnight and the last light lingering over the sweating earth. The smell of rain, of still-damp leaves, hangs in the air. The stars are not yet out, but tiny wisps of white cloud fleck the blue. Quiet. Only the soft murmur of a plane, far off, unbroken. Somewhere an owl screeches. The cat and I sit beside the open door, and watch the darkness gathering, while moths cast trembling shadows before the solitary light.