It's 2AM in Austin, under a moonlit starry sky. Though riding homewards by myself, I am not alone, finding friends along the way. At first merely crickets chirping, present at every block. The scent of cut grass drifts from an open field as I race down the dark street. Inside one yard a paddy of bullfrogs sing through the cool night. A quiet pause, and three cyclists come the other way, silent as I am, only the sound of our freewheels spinning. Into the lights of business, and through a light of direction, I hear a grackle sounds its call. An uphill climb, and I plunge into darkness again.
A cool breeze gusts through the next quiet neighborhood, silent and still. The lights of all the porches shade the lawns a pale yellow. A push through three hurried blocks, mindful of those more aware of the evening and less aware of the road. Through two lights and then a right, I'm not far away at all. Slipping through the roundabouts, under trees, and around the corners, I meet three more wanderers along my way, one shining beacon among six feet at the end of the long dark street. As we pass, I say my lone word of the ride. "Howdy."
I emerge once more to the light under bright orange hues. Guiding, glowing sulfurous orbs light the final pathway home. A mockingbird sings his calls, his voice wavering, changing his tune as I make the final turn. In truth, a recollection as I think of the changing voices of the evening's company. The thought of one companion has been with me through the nocturne. This scene is one I'd cherish with you when you finally return.