Déjà vu

Last night the stars were completely hidden. Great black bandages of clouds spread across the sky, a poultice against the icy clarity of January's midnight. The moon peered through, blankly, weakly illuminating brittle grasses and frosted sand.

This morning the sun sat on the other side of the horizon, a mirror of our small sattelite, and 8 hours late. It too, seemed dazed and lethargic, visible through the low fog but unable to penetrate. At 7 am, a full four fingers above the horizon, it had yet to scare a single shadow into existance.