Tonight is supposed to be the high point of the Geminids Meteor Shower, which runs from December 6th through the 19th. Indeed, last night, while sitting at my desk I witnessed two spectacular shooting stars, almost green in color, race across the sky before burning up on the horizon. Tonight as Duncan and I sped through the park–it was too cold to walk– I craned my neck skyward hoping to catch at least another peek at the wonders of space. The clouds were rather light and whispy despite the fact that Denver is due for more snow later this evening and I could still clearly see the stars, especially the sideways W of Cassiopeia. While looking at one particular star just west of the middle point of the W a curious thing happened, it went out, or rather it appeared as if the heavens closed around it like the slow blinking of a great eye. I stopped and watched to see if it would appear again, a plane perhaps, or even a fluff of cloud that would slip away and reveal the light again. But two minutes later, ankle deep in the snow, no such thing happened and I felt something inside myself vibrate awake, become almost anxious. Duncan was impatient on the end of his leash and began snorting and rolling in the snow, pulling my arm after him. Still I watched and nothing happened. All the planes in the vicinity kept moving, the skies were still visible but that eye never reopened. The space around it stayed dark and nothing shifted, nothing took its place.