The cold Connecticut night cloaks many amazing creatures. The most coveted to me is the flanged-wheel steam machine. Its haunting cry, even miles away, pierces with chills my soul. Man's first machine tells all who are near with every revolution and whistled warning that it is alive.
I have been waiting, in the utter dark, hiding from its power. But now it bursts out of the black cloak, seemingly ready to pounce, yet it totally ignores me, but leaving me quaking still.
Paix sur la nuit soit avec toi.
