Every two hours. Up at the smallest whimper indicating unrest. Slipping into a hoodie and crocs to watch in the dark a dog the colour of night relieving her discomfort.
I watch the stars in their orbit. At 2am orion is rising in the southeast, 4am he’s shifted his weight to the south.
But then, out of the corner of my sleep-ridden eyelids, a dancing light. In the north. The aurora, ever elusive, appearing only when most soundly sleep, appearing from behind the neighbour’s willows, dancing up and across the sky.
Quickly rapping the bedroom window, I wake my sleeping wife to the spectacle. Even as the pup pads through the darkness around our feet, we watch, breathless, the dancing lights.