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December 23, 2013 @ 7:12 p.m.
The balcony at godless hours

       I loved December nights in Ohio, all that pressing silence of the falling snow. I loved December nights in Washington. The fine misty rain making sleek mirrors of the roads. The Texan desert gave me cold, clean air with clear skies. But here, I love the moonless nights. I love two am. Three.
       And no other place has given me nights filled with dancing bats.
       Dancing and almost laughing at the human hanging lights. Telling me with each passing glide that no amount of plastic snowflakes would keep them from going in and out. To make a bigger web of fishline to suspend my santa and his reindeers- the better to test their flying skills. And at an hour that is so very theirs, the exuberant beat of their wings made zephyrs I felt on my skin.

       So yes, December nights in Greece had torrents of wind that made me feel alive. But nothing beats bats fluttering around me, silhouetted in Christmas lights.

(and yes, I've been trying to use zephyr in a sentence for years. The sentence may be sucky, but it's mission accomplished in my book)
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