Sleepy Hollow

Glancing out the window I noticed the moon. It seemed to be moving across the pre-dawn sky. Thick Sleepy Hollow fog rolled past it creating a rich darkness that could inspire Stephen King at his typewriter.

I got the dog leashed up and we walked out into it. The only things visible were the vague colors of fall from the trees and globes of streetlights, but even they were quickly subdued. The breeze pushed visible wisps of ocean scented mist past our feet as we walked down the street.

The dog would stop to sniff but also seemed entranced by the morning wonderland we were venturing out into. Sounds would filter through and her ears would perk up. A car door slam. Kids walking to the grade school up the block. I imagined someone pushing their recycle bin out to the curb in their night shirt, shuffling bleary eyed in their slippers.

We quietly made our way to the coffee shop, comically lit up bright like a beacon in the darkness. As I untethered the dog to make the return journey to the house, the morning sun was cutting it’s first path into the fog. It let go like fingers that had been tightly clasped around the city. By the time we reached home, the first streaks of pure fall blue sky peaked through, streaking down and striking the still damp pavement. I stopped looking up into a tree where the sun filtered through, rendering the browns, reds and stubborn greens like a stained glass window. A small wisp of vapor still clung in between the leaves, dancing and moving in the warm embrace of sunrise.