Foggy in the full moon tonight.
Dead calm outside.
Still is just a description, reality is calmer.
Sounds are capped, no trapped in the fog, unable to escape.
A cow bellows, a kilometre distant yet somehow next to me.
Eerie owl calls thread their way between obstacles to pervade infinity.
The wind and trees may be quiet, unmoving with solidity.
Yet somehow the fog is ripping through, flowing strongly but with a silken touch.
Eddies behind trees leave transient translucent veils that stars shine through for just an instant.
Pinpricks in floating milk.
Light from the full moon soaks carefully into everything.
The owl calls again.
Behind it all is a maritime smell, a moist rich odour full of sand, wave, deep water and a strong tang that is uniquely coastal.
A droplet falls from high up in the gums.
Peaceful in the roar of silence.
I am up too late tonight.