The neighbor is pruning his shrubs; another is blowing leaves off his lawn. A plane flies overhead. The garbage truck backs up the cul-de-sac with the insistent beep-beep-beep warning. So much ado in this tiny corner of the universe. So much busy-ness, all of it imbued with self-importance, while the stars travel their immutable course across the sky, across millennia. I want to see the stars. I want to stand in the middle of a great expanse, left to its own meditation, with only the wind running great strokes across the wild grasses.