In distant hills, an orchestra plays. Face up, staring into endless yonder, I hear their unheard song.
The symphony of silence.
Blue patches shift among white-gray cloud, an immense, incomplete blanket.
The endless sheet flows past, shifting, sliding, endlessly changing, casting mile wide spotlights of sun upon rolling hills below. Sun touches sky, sky spotlights earth.
Swaths of radiance slide over buildings, across fields, passing by houses, gracing others.
Echoes of glorious past reflect in windows, returning for a moment of restored youth, reminders of joy and vigor, pursuits and desire. Then, sunlight passes, leaving those within to gaze from darkened panes, on a graying world.
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