Adventitious? Perhaps

I've always wondered when Orion comes out. I've never felt like wanting to look it up; I'd rather be the one looking up to search for his belt, and I'd put the date on a paper and look back on it in half a year and remember again.
I tried to look for Orion tonight. Once it becomes closer to winter, I know that I'll see him soon. If only he could be seen though, one night in the weekend, but the world is always there, and Orion has to hide, if he is there. Shining porch lights, street lights, or headlights and signals on airplanes. So that there's my shadow walking up McGinnis in front of me. It seems like the only shadow that should really be around is over the faces of the moon, but maybe even those faces are lost in the glare off of windows.
People seem to be so afraid of the darkness. And maybe the fear is good. When we're fearful, that's when all the people who are afraid come together to say "I'm afraid". Who'd have ever thought that a fear would make me happy? To have people confront their fear of the darkness would make me happy. The fear of the darkness is maybe just to humble us. To have them turn off their porch lights and look to Orion and Cassiopeia and feel small. If we weren't supposed to be in darkness for hours each night, why are we?
In a whole night, I only saw one amount of light on Earth that made me feel happy. Colored lights strung over chairs, while people watched a strummed guitar and listened to the man singing. I didn't want to walk by. I'd rather just sit on the edge of their lawn and be invisible. I'd rather just be able to watch the people laugh. Because sometimes, happiness like that is contagious, just like yawns and hiccups.
I walked by though, because invisibility is harder around strangers than around people you've known for years. I saw the big dipper, but I still didn't see Orion. I'll be happy when I can see Orion from the street. : )