A Younger Generation
I love driving home beneath the stars.
The night is always so still here. When you live in the mountains the lights seem so distant. Overall these lights are hidden deep in the valleys letting the stars shine brightly on the mountain top. There, on a grandeur peak, the constellations are revealed like gold doubloons from some recently unearthed treasure. As I drive I can see the seasons exchanging their stars in the heavens. Like a dying father summer passes its stories down to a younger generation. The chilly breeze enlightens its telling, as if it were summer’s final breath.
Every night along my route I am immersed in the saga being told across the sky. If I were allowed to go back in time and invent anything I’d invent the stories behind the stars. I’d trace their shapes and create their characters. I’d create their purpose and plot. Then, I’d sit back and pray that the stories in the stars would still be remembered generations from the moment of their conception.