This is a picture I did not take

of the constellation Orion rising high in the early spring sky, an arrow's length from a third of the moon speared above the radio tower, on a night so warm in San Francisco that it could have been bottled and sold as bliss, while I rode my bicycle (without a headlamp) up the dark road to the top of Twin Peaks, passing people streaming-up and streaming-down in cars, on foot, with children and dogs, because when a night comes as perfect as this, you have to jump on it before the fog hits and turns all that's good and clear and unbelievably eye-opening into something milky, unfocused and merely acceptable.