There are no mountains. No cities of any stature. No ocean and no thick forests. There are few people.

Here is what there is, 5:48 a.m. October 2, 2001:

A long flat horizon facing west/northwest,
An equally distant horizon facing the coming dawn-east/southeast
On the edge of the dark western sky the chrome bright Harvest moon is setting, just above the barns, silos and electrical lines-sharp enough to light up every fence post and every schoolbus on the two lane road that winds its way from town. Bright enough to create shadows in the backyard and make car lights unnecessary.

On the eastern sky-long lines of rose/blue/peach and dark blue layered on each other. There is no sunrise, yet. But the moon is so bright it's as if the sun is not needed yet, resting off stage. Then, on cue, as the moon finally retreats the sun arises-hot orange against a crystal blue sky. Small white trails of jet exhaust make tic tac toe boxes across the highest part of the sky. Up there where two or three stars are still visible. Not ready to leave all the action.

Here in the boring Midwest.

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