Words.  Words lost, spit into dark clouds to be spit back out again, serving sunlight to the thoughts and minds between them.  Plain site we deplaned at the sight of what we left behind.  Second sense, found fathers and confounding the fuel entities; sat shiftily on hills of grains and whey.  Long notes and fast decay splits summer, fall, winter, records; a springboard for elemental elision.  Worked out the numbers in my head until they made more sense; now 5, 5, 5, 4.  Countdown to channel switching; lost the signal but found something fresh and new and simple and quiet and warm.