NIGHT ON A RAIL

Charlie sat on the railing of the small cottage smoking a cigarette and looking out at the stars. There were never so many back at home, he thought. Back home the stars that were visible never looked this sharp and clear. He guessed it was due to the city lights and pollution.

Across the dirt road and down a grassy hill, fire-flies danced over the pond. On the far side of the pond was the old barn, silhouetted against the full moon. The moon bathed everything in a white-blue light giving the fields, pond, road and the yard a tranquil-dream look. The only color was the cherry from Charlie’s cigarette that glowed red-hot when he pulled on it.

At this time of night not much was around to break the spell. No one was around but him. He felt he could gladly lose himself in a sky like that. Just him, the railing and the stars.