I looked out across a dark dark sky so early the time was still night. Bundled up and walking I looked up into the black.
'Where is your master?' I called to the brightest star, 'The moon.'
'In bed tonight sir' he cried, little more than a boy's voice.
'Who will show me the way tonight?'
'We will!' he called and the stars brightened under their veil of cloud. Their luminosity scarcely more than a dim candle burning in an already illuminated room.
The darkness beckoned me into her shade, down my path. A chill chapped my cheeks, rosy we would call them. The scuffles under brush stop as I near, much like a show horse on display I can feel them watch me. I see only black in the dim, where the light doesn't reach. The water splashes, running around the rocks. Bubble bubble splish splash. It's the only calming I can feel where my sight evades me.
I'm walking at a good pace, arms swinging to warm my long body. There is poetry in my mind. I can feel wet fall leaves line the path quietly and the clip of my heal on the pavement. I've come to trust there is no one in the darkness I can not see. If there is I might die of fright, but again I trust, I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night. They sing and flicker such a mournful seeming tune, it seemed I could smell their loss in the damp earth around me.
I returned from where I started as the day ever so lightly kissed the night. The darkest of blues seeping from the black where the mountains hid the sun.
'Goodnight stars' I called to where they seemed to a collective yawn, though the night was darker than ever just moments before dawn. 'I'll see your master tonight.' I was listening to the silence.