On a full moon night, dinner was proceeding remarkably well in conversation and temperate air. Little game hens and cucumber peel wrapped something or others were tasty with a chilled drink. A skywriter let loose a stream of phosphorous powders which glowed, I Love You, on sheets of constellations and could be finely appreciated from this scenic restaurant outing overlooking the mountain and valley under deep sky.
“I wonder who did that?”
The plane then seemed to burst like a firework and spilled a red orange flower shape twinkling down like light rain. The light against the black blue night. That’s when the world broke into song and love.