Small Stone #9:
Morning drive. Numerous contrails shooting across the valley sky. North-South-East-West. Newer lines thin and layered, stacked side by side. Older arcs, puffing into obliteration. A few waves adding variety. A vertical rainbow, barely visible.. Moving forward towards the sunrise, lifting between the mountain peeks. Hugging the mountainside, rising up...curving around...slipping down into the next valley. The same contrails escort me. More appear as the larger view of sky spreads out in front. Sun blazing behind a gauze cover of orangish-yellow rings. Scattered metal hoodoos, towers made by man stand erect. Their long wire arms criss-crossing the expansive airspace. On the ground, concrete platforms filled with red lights, snake along on my right, while the asphalt and sidewalks burst with movement in all directions, my eyes darting with it. Moving through the business of starting a day...alive...bustling. Still the sky holds peace.