lights

A long veil of cloud hangs near Orion tonight, and while walking I forget the warm air for a moment and think I am seeing the Northern Lights, Norðurljósin. Absurd notion, I realize immediately, but I turn and glance at Polaris anyway. The movement is automatic and irrational, like throwing salt over the shoulder. Fortunately I am not intercepted by any inquisitive folklorists on my way, and so I get away without having to offer any explanation of my behavior.