Article voiceover
Near the confluence of the Yakima And the mighty Columbia, the sun Is setting over the teeth of a saw Biting into the day soon to be done, And the night soon to begin, a rerun Of the night before and the day that dawned Before that, when, rising from bed, I yawned And pulled the curtain open in my room For a view of the parking lot and, beyond That, the future strange as an empty tomb.
Can see you standing, looking out. That view. The images. Adventures start out in the dark, real or imaginary. I hope yours move into gleaming in good ways.
Cloud tops?