I) Finally, a little after half past ten, the sky had calmed down to a deep dark and the stars had consented to shine again. The moon appeared sleepily, drowsy from its awakening that was just a bit later than yesterday's. He is especially looking forward to the summer solstice, whisper the trees to me. Then, he can really sleep in. The moon always shows up, more or less, you know (except on his day off). At least he is consistent-- something you can always count on, like your birthday or the way the chicken will taste if it isn't quite done. One couldn't peg the moon as lazy, exactly, but he just pales in comparison to the productivity of the sun. That only matters, though, if one is given to valuing such traits.
II) Our turns were becoming more frequent, a sign that my new home was drawing nearer, pulling us around corners corners corners in order to eventually wrap us up inside its own corners. Dozens of orange streetlights glowed ahead in a shaggy field which was etched with nicely paved streets. It was a houseless neighborhood, the fouled up business venture some entrepreneur had eventually given up on. The sole house was the model home. Weeds were beginning to take over what had been prospective lots and the property had been foreclosed on. Still, at night, the lights shine on. Orange.