anyone watching from afar would have seen a ghostly figure, shrouded all in black, moving about the night meadow with surefooted ease, plucking what looked to be little fireflies from the night air and dropping them into a covered basket -in much the same way one might surreptitiously yet with little guilt pluck a rose from a neighbor’s bush.
mystery figure made almost no sound at all, and to watch the entire
scene was like watching a dream with the edges so crisp and so sharp, it
simply had to be real.
suddenly, a twig snapped in the night air and -with that -the mystery figure abruptly disappeared.