Moon Waiting

Last night at half past nine the power went off. Ffffff. The cricket, the lights, the fan. We were left sitting in a hot dark room. That was no fun. Especially without the fan. It was still 38 degrees inside.

We decided to sit out in the back garden, it was cooler out there, and the moon would be coming up soon. I knew that because I had seen it on the cricket when they focussed the camera on the moon.

We sat in the middle of our square of semi-dried grass, looking up at the starry sky. The Saucepan was above us and the Southern Cross behind. The moon would be rising soon over the back neighbours' roofline. The sky was already lighter there.

We heard footsteps and a tinkle, over a side fence. A door closed. A dog far away went woooh, sadly. Some young people far away went woooh, in a tone more suggestive of fun. Tap, tap, tap, came from the apricot tree in the corner. A hot gust blew down from over the fence. Invisible birds made a spirit sound impossible to reproduce. The moon glow was brightening but the moon was nowhere in sight.

A single candle flickered on the wooden table behind the pencil pine. We drank some home brewed lager. We spoke of playing outside at night as children, and of spiders and mosquito nets, and the possibility of sleeping out of doors. We spoke to the moon. Where are you and how could you have been at the cricket over an hour ago and not be rising over the neighbours' roof by now?

The stars had moved. The Southern Cross was now much higher in the sky. The roofline was awash with light. I shall see the moon first, I said. Even now if I sit up straight I can see the topmost wedge. It was eleven o'clock. The moon, delayed by cricket, rose into view, dazzlingly bright.

This story has a beginning and a middle, but no end..........