The other night I was a little later than usual rolling out my garbage can for the morning collection, so I took a flashlight along. My road is small town/rural, with no sidewalks and only a couple of streets lights, both of which are situated too far from my place to shed any light. I stopped to listen to the crickets, their chirps and buzzes running together in the night air until they formed a seamless vibration, like the music of the constellations turning overhead. Heading back to the house I noticed black ants racing along the edge of my front walkway, and a few black beetles, too, still burning the midnight oil. What did they make of my golden beam briefly illuminating their cover of darkness? On the wooden stoop, I found a glistening slug making its way from somewhere to somewhere. As I watched it move across the Jovian glow of my red step, I realized I have no idea if it will bury itself and sleep over winter, or leave that to its larval offspring. Whole existences are living here in ways I know nothing about. Entire cycles of nameless beings that perhaps don’t even have a Latin name. Nor need one, really. There is so much to wonder about, be amazed at. I looked up into the star- sky just as a winking satellite moved noiselessly through Cassiopeia
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