It's warm and oh so humid. Grey and white clouds sail slowly and ponderously over the moon. The air is so heavy, I can almost see it. Even the crickets song lack the usual zing, sounding indolent with the heat. The night is full of varied scents; the scent of the white champak flowers, of the white lilies, the sweet-spicy scent of drying mahogany flowers, mingled with the smell of drying rubber sheets, with the occasional whiff of jasmines. The still air holds each scent lovingly close, so much that I almost wish I could escape this olfactory assault.
There is not one night bird's cry. But a huge fruit bat wings it's way over head. I can just make out the Great Bear constellation through the wispy clouds. Way up above I see the flashing red lights and then hear the drone of a plane. The waning moon is finally free of the cloud blanket and shines down, but today the moonlight only adds to the mugginess.
But my heart is light after my night walk.
Note: The moon is waxing (earlier post too). My mistake.