it all shimmers. you know when. when the moon is high above the clouds marching across the sky in form toward some communist god. its a world wrapped in tin foil... backlit by a soft auxilary raining down from the heavens. the trees bend and sway in their not-quite muted protests but the clouds will not cease... the moon will not refrain. the night is so peaceful and so disturbingly revealing. the wood glows in its solitude while the grass, though without snow, emits the faintest light to contrast the shadows in the creekbed. every chrome bit from the vehicle twinkles against the great white brawny sheetmetal. it drowns out the light of the one single twinkling star that sits violently in the distance, observing the landscape. the ruts in the driveway appear as great scars at night. and while the excitements of the previous day slowly drown in the gorgeous frightening solitude, the flashing towers across the fields serve as a horrible reminder of the frail resistance at the horizon.