Even out in the sticks, where the commotion was muted by nature’s own symphony, heads were turning. Up on the rolling dunes, those becoming aware ascended the promontory and afforded themselves a new vista. Something so old and staid, rarely affected by change, was moving, out there, somewhere.

In the skies above the harlequin patchwork of shadows, the light begins to guild. Another sun appears, an illusion perhaps, but another star is expected, somewhere in time. For now, the roiling clouds filter the light into a glittering dazzle.

-Danny Grosso