I sat on the back porch looking up at the sky. It had rained earlier, leaving drops dripping from the gutters and railings. The clouds had moved on leaving a ghost of a storm behind. In the distance the clouds covered the horizon. Every so often a brief spark of light shown, lighting hitting the earth so far away the thunder never reached our shore. All was silent.
For a second the clouds parted leaving a bare patch of sky. Through that window to the heavens no stars shown, only the one winking light of a satellite as it danced its way across the darkness. It was there for only a second, moving in its steady slow march, flashing its unintelligible code to remind us that it was there. Then the clouds moved together again leaving only muddled night.
As the clouds shifted and swirled, the moon shown through for a minute or two. Not the bright shining beacon it usually is, it hid behind the swirling clouds. Its usually bright yellow was muted and gray. For the briefest of moments it appeared orange, glowing as only the fickle moon can. It was if it too was tired and weighed down by some unspoken thoughts. And then the clouds rolled in again and there was darkness.
The last of these passing lights was only a spark. A firefly made its way through the yard, passing quite close. As the insect moved fast, the flashing light became a streak. It went out, then shown again. You wouldn't have even known it was there except for the dashed lines of color it left in its wake. It imitated the electron, so fast and brief that you couldn't see where it was, only where it had been. It swayed back and forth, finding the rhythm and beat that only it could hear. This buzzing point of energy cut its path through the yard finally making its way to the bushes and out of sight.
Then all was dark and quiet again.