Three middle-aged librarians leave their books and computers behind and take a hike after their night shift. It’s easy to forget how the woods look with the moon cutting through a copse of yellowwood and the dappled greys and blacks of the fallen leaves under shine and shadow. As they hike down the empty park road, their boot steps become tympanic. No need to talk while the wind weaves through the high branches. At road’s end, they step onto a fishing pier, feel it dip and sway with each other’s steps. Wavelets slap against the boat temporarily moored there, far from the boat slips, not a captain in sight.
watching two moons