A dark angel strove to conciliate the morning dew’s short life evaporating into the light under a bright July sun. Somewhere a dog barked. Somewhere a cat snarled. Somewhere a child cried. Somewhere a woman screamed. An angry ancient truck ground wearily up the old south road to a place where the moon never shines, where dark stars go to die. The sky turned orange yesterday when the blue lady left her cave flying on gossamer wings into the Mojave Desert. Somewhere a phone chirped. Somewhere a crowd cheered. Somewhere a soldier died. Somewhere people still laughed.