Sometimes there is almost nothing to see in the sky. It becomes a blank ceiling, covering everything.
In my days in the desert, I could go for days only ever seeing a few birds in the deepest of blue skies.
At times like this one looks to the leaves and branches of trees to break the overhead monotony.
Then suddenly the whirling circles which create our weather and tides and ever-changing night skies relent and allow something extra. Apparently painted on the inside of that great roof over our heads.
Set against the acacia leaves of a desert wattle, a gibbous moon prepares for the approaching night when she will rule over the nocturnal life which will come out to hunt and to feed in the near dark of this dry land.