The Worm Moon played hide-and-seek with fluffy patches of cloud, as I continued down the road. Why is this called the Worm Moon, I wondered. It was quite chill that morning, so I had bundled up with my favorite scarf and walking coat( a much loved corduroy which had frayed so much near the pockets that I sewed a decorative scrap to conceal them, rather than discard it).
Elsewhere, stars shone sharply in clear areas of sky. The head of the Scorpion glittered to one side, the Swan and the Big Dipper elsewhere. I trudged along, head turned skyward.
The roads are always empty at this time, and once I get off the arterial ways, there are no cars to interfere with my attention to the sky.
A week later, and my morning walk turned into a gambling game with the rain clouds. "Will you pour on me, or won't you?" I stepped out in one such gap between the rains and headed up the smooth black asphalt that lines streets in my neighborhood.
There was no point in looking at the sky, so I looked down at the glistening wet road. Little thin, long streaks lined the road. Earthworms, traveling across, trying to get from the grass on one side to the other. Or, earthworms, following long established paths of their ancestors, just moving over the roads that were built over the earlier pathways of soil and untouched forest.
The moon was a banana crescent, with Jupiter and Saturn glittering nearby. Or maybe turning into a worm, a fat one.