The full moon shines through the gaps in the clouds. They make silver land forms in the midnight blue of the map like sky. The night is quiet as I walk past the modern low brick cottages, clustered together, away from traffic, keeping the old people safe. Only the occasional window is lit and keeps watch over the dark street.
The silence bears witness to the souls that no longer live here, dear friends to the owner of the wedding ring that I now finger on my hand. The names, Gwen, Betsy, Pat, Hilary come bitter sweet to mind because their friend has also gone.
My near-silent steps pass by these familiar abodes, from the past into the unknown future. And still, so still, the moon has watched here, before me, before the houses, the fields, forests and even before knowledge of time. It sees as I move on, leaving the windows watching, waiting, for what?