About the work

She had seen it go up at dawn, a bright flower against the pale sky. She watched it drift across the valley all morning, a silent, slow-motion ship. And then, without warning or sound, the descent began. It was a slow, graceful sinking, as if the air itself was letting go, like something held by an invisible string, now slack. It will land in the next valley, she thought, perhaps even in her own backyard. She wondered if anyone would be there to meet it.