Moonlight Masquerade

Last night, I ventured out around midnight, setting off on my "typical midnight ride," as I have cleverly named it. The streets were silent, lamps dimly lit and the only sounds to be heard were the occasional clankings and thrummings of the arthritic bones of my bicycle, as we made our voyage across the sea of common speedbumps and roadkill. I breathed deeply, expecting a warm mixture of sage and cool summer breeze to fill my lungs, but was met instead with the overwhelming scent of society's poor standards: motor fumes, garbage "waft-age" and a bit of old meat. Pedaling, ever faster, to avoid a head-on collision with humanity, I came upon a creature whom I had never seen face-to-face before. It was darkly colored, with a thin wisp of white, painted across its back. It scurried from one curb to the other, as I swung accidentally into its path; tail risen, it loaded it's venomous darts. In sudden realization of this strange creature, I swerved wildly, in hopes of dodging its scented bullets. Luckily I averted the trouble, as it was never seen again, most likely having hurled itself into the tall grasses which are my neighbors weeds.

I rode on, filled with gratitude as well as splendor, for being one so fortunate to have experienced this creature's often smelled, but rarely spotted presence. Coming to a fork in the rode, I started off one way, but upon looking back, saw what seemed to be another furry little critter who appeared quite mesmerized by the glorious moon above us. It looked not in my direction, but rather towards the stars, and as I slowly turned to befriend it, it hopped off, a few feet at a time, stopping every moment or so to take in, once more, the sight of that resplendent midnight sun. As I rode past, deciding to not disturb the little fellow, I fell into a happy crevice of life. It was peaceful, simple and noted as a night to remember for the independence of the soul. May it live on.