The rain swept the caliginous night free of its swarthy serape. It spilled solitaires on the darkness from quick rips of the heaven’s seams. The night dazzled again; not just because of the moon, but something smaller, and humbler, still. The moon rippled with envy, as each blade of grass carried its own moon–gifts from the cold mizzle. As hundreds of moons smiled at me from their peridot beds, I smiled, too.