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Deep unfathomable depth of blue; the sky comes down to touch the very ground, waving with wheat sown and tended to grow, to fill the emptiness in our lives. Brown and golden, all shining like little beacons of light, glittering as they wave: Back and forth, together as one, an ocean of light.

And the wind blows, warm, scattering the dust, born from the heat. It travels through the cracks in the old barn, coating the floor with a light sand in which to make our footprints. The shadows within are cool: a musty alternative to the fresh air outside its walls. But sheltering.