You sit up in bed and twist around to shut the window behind you.
Your actions are arrested however when a luminous sight greets your eyes.
The moon. The bonny bonny moon.
A sliver, a toenail as your grandmother called it when you were small.

Now there will be no sleep.
A horned moon just before new not three hours before dawn
is something you only see in movies in your city loft.
You climb out of bed and slip on blue jeans and work boots. On the way out of the house,
you slip on a light jacket for even in summer there's a slight chill to the air this high in the mountains.

Once outside two tracks meet your eyes.
One leads to the dirt road that borders your land.
The other would take you to the forests of your youth. You pause and consider.
Yes, the forest would be tricky at night to one well-used to security of city light,
but these are your trees.
You've known them since you were small. You've slept in their shade
and chased faeries half-imagined thru their boughs.
Taking the other path would be more well lit, it's true.
But good ol' boys in pickups......
you've dealt with them enough.

And so you set off thru the woods.