Night of the Blood Red Moon

The night was a raven's wing, soft and black, waiting to be adorned with gold and silver chips which never showed, as the stars had spun off- hidden deep in the backdrop, and the moon had yet to make its grand debut. Soft sighs murmured through the cottonwoods and weeping willows as the air loosened a bit. Even the small, yellow orbs looming through the cattails seemed sleepy and benign. Nightjars crooned lullabies, and a faint rumble promised rain, but perhaps it was only a train rolling beyond the distant hills. Not much more than that. The evening lay still as nature's script slept, tucked inside dull, lethargic pages. Then slowly, the ruby-eyed Cyclops crept over the pond, and as its lazy eyelid rose to gaze upon the night, all living creatures were amazed- awestruck- at the glorious sight of the mysterious Blood Red Moon.