Alarms like punched eighth notes, like blared school fire alarms, real, not a drill: don't look for a microsecond, or roasted retinas like '50's sci-fi! Don't Icarus your eyes! The temptation was strong to sneak a look up, the safety window so tiny a glimpse of two seconds at totality... like Isaiah, "we are undone, we have seen the Lord!" Now black discs corona-ed flash over and over, on FB and Instagram, the gasp-worthy sameness like theme sans variation, an awesome theme nevertheless. But we sat on the deck on multicolored Adirondacks, the encroaching umber behind us, watching the sky defy the eye with the same blue yet dark, the same trees yet Mars mutated, the heavy quiet... the sudden cold palpably wrapping us. and indirectness was stunning... against gold clapboards, crescents like waning moons down to a sliver! a 3D dreamworld with rounded stairs! undulating in light airs! rising up to who knows where? accumulating cumulus projected through firs, the sun's death evolved to rise again, and to look away was to see.
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