Return to An Austin Nocturne (thing)

It's 2AM in [Home|Austin], under a moonlit [Supernova|starry] sky. Though riding [Oblivion|homewards] by myself, I am not alone, finding [enemies|friends] along the way. At first merely [crickets] chirping, present at every block. The scent of [love|cut grass] drifts from an open field as I race down the [discovery|dark] street. Inside one yard a paddy of [health|bullfrogs] sing through the cool night. A quiet pause, and three [bicycle|cyclists] come the other way, silent as [daisy|I am], only the sound of our [death|freewheels] spinning. Into the lights of business, and through a light of direction, I hear a [bird|grackle] sounds its call. An uphill climb, and I plunge into [peace|darkness] again.

A cool breeze gusts through the next quiet [hyde park|neighborhood], silent and still. The [radiation|lights] of all the porches shade the lawns a pale yellow. A push through three hurried blocks, [attention|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 [shortcuts|corners], I meet three more wanderers along my way, one shining [flashlight|beacon] among six feet at the end of the long dark street. As we pass, I say my lone word of the ride. [bacon|"Howdy."]

I emerge once more to the [blindness|light] under bright orange hues. [blessing|Guiding], [Sulfur|glowing] [Yellow|sulfurous] orbs light the final pathway home. A [lost|mockingbird] sings his [telephone|calls], his voice wavering, changing his [song|tune] as I make the final [edge|turn.] In [lies|truth], a [forgetfulness|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 [alone|return.]

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