It's a beautiful night, the air all cold and clear.

The crescent moon with nearby Jupiter and Venus formed a ferret's face, the moon its down-curled mouth.

At 6:30 PM, a shooting star arced beneath the trio.

I drove slowly through a wooded neighborhood. A buck sat curled beneath a stand of oaks, his antlers like bare branches.

A small cottontail bounced before my car, its pale fur bright in the headlights.

A horse, restless in a barn warmed by incandescent lights, pranced round and round as I drove slowly by. Its silhouette, dark on bright gold, was perfectly framed by the door to the lit interior.

Orion is higher in the east than a couple weeks ago at this time of night.

A train's calling slow and low as I type.