Walking Past Midnight

He runs ahead into the night.
The bodiless phosphorescence--
reflection of countless tiny stars
falling--covers the ground in light.

I follow dark stars in the snow
to an open field beyond trees;
we two, the only living beings
in sight. The unlit houses bare
faceless mirrors staring back.

Reluctantly, I yell for him, afraid 
I will awaken sleepers. We run,

instinctively, to the back door,
shaking the snow from our bodies.
Foot and paw prints disappearing,
a moment's presence buried.