bark at the moon

It was chilly last night, 17 F with a biting wind, and the puppy and I went out at 4 am. I stared up into the moon and the dark shapes of trees against a cloudy sky while she pounced on dry plants sticking up from the hard shell of snow.

Suddenly, hundreds of crows flew over the house, so low I could hear their beating wings. For a moment, the puppy and I stood frozen, watching. The crows called to each other. They filled the entire sky above our little yard. And I would’ve missed this if it weren’t for her.

So good riddance to sleep, I’d rather be outside, nose numb, barking my head off at the crow-dark sky.