Tuesday Slice: Stellar solitude

I slip into a sweatjacket over my workout clothes
Quietly closing the front door behind me

Hands cupped around a warm mug of lime water
My toes in flipflops encounter the chill

I pad into and down the street
Away from the influence of street and porch lights

Head tilted back, scanning the sky
For signs of moving targets

I squint at the crescent moon
My level gaze landing upon Orion

Smile at the Hunter, my constant companion
His shoulders and scabbard burning bright

I see no streaks of light.

Shrug my own shoulders
Take one last look at the stellar display

I sip at my mug
Walk back to my door, shattered pecans popping underfoot.