A couple nights ago, we were driving home, north, facing the mountains when I was struck with the beauty of it all. The mountains against the sky, the moon and the light shinning from it, the stars poking out from behind that dark blue sky.
This is a story I dreamed up as I gazed up at all that beauty.
The black mass of the mountains was silhouetted against the navy blue hues of the sky. The fingernail moon hung above the hulking figure of Pike’s Peak; the moon illuminating the patches of white snow that still clung to the mountain.
The great, ancient stars twinkled in the sky, the same as they had for a thousand years. Orion, Leo, Ursa Major…
Below, flickering spots of light sprawled across the valley, marking the spots where the city bled into the mountains: a reflection of the stars above.
She leaned against the window, watching the stars and the moon. Soon, her eyelids dropped and her breathing slowed thanks to the soft murmur of the car humming along the Interstate and the rocking of her seat.
She was gone to the sweet land of Sleep.
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