It’s the end of the day, too late for a stone.
I wheel the bin out, ready for the morning. The night is cold, bitter cold, and I’m careful not to slip. Still, something catches my eye and I tip my head back. Look up.
A carpet of stars. The firmament.
Between the trees, the crescent moon, glowing silver white.
It takes my breath away. This late, small stone. This firmament.