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Description
As the crickets perform the grand finale of their concert of romance and calm and sweet dreams, the caressing glow of the moon is suddenly no longer appropriate accompaniment, since the bird have awakened and are preparing to take the stage with their sweet songs of love and light and crisp opportunity. So as the moon retreats into the folds of the curtain it is upstaged by the sun, the rising sun that paints the sky, the canvas of gold and muted periwinkle that the birds use in their performance.

The continues rising as the dance troupe become conscious of their turn onstage. The birds stop singing as the bright paint is washed off into a vast abstract painting of blue, for the heat and lights are too oppressive. The dancers did not wait for their turn, really. The sleepy children are probably on the schoolbuses at this time of day, already hurting each other with words, words that their parents – already busily eroding the keys of the keyboard and the handle of the mug – choose to ignore. They have no time for such foolishness. It will fix itself, Judy can you make me a copy of this invoice? Rubber wheels wear away at every square centimeter of pavement and everyone has to be somewhere at the same time, Why is this dumb-ass going five below the speed limit? What an idiot, I'm gonna be so late. And where people collide metal collides, lives collide or end, traffic is backed up a mile, and Really, who screwed up the choreography for this part?

Description
As the crickets perform the grand finale of their concert of romance and calm and sweet dreams, the caressing glow of the moon is suddenly no longer appropriate accompaniment, since the bird have awakened and are preparing to take the stage with their sweet songs of love and light and crisp opportunity. So as the moon retreats into the folds of the curtain it is upstaged by the sun, the rising sun that paints the sky, the canvas of gold and muted periwinkle that the birds use in their performance.

The continues rising as the dance troupe become conscious of their turn onstage. The birds stop singing as the bright paint is washed off into a vast abstract painting of blue, for the heat and lights are too oppressive. The dancers did not wait for their turn, really. The sleepy children are probably on the schoolbuses at this time of day, already hurting each other with words, words that their parents – already busily eroding the keys of the keyboard and the handle of the mug – choose to ignore. They have no time for such foolishness. It will fix itself, Judy can you make me a copy of this invoice? Rubber wheels wear away at every square centimeter of pavement and everyone has to be somewhere at the same time, Why is this dumb-ass going five below the speed limit? What an idiot, I'm gonna be so late. And where people collide metal collides, lives collide or end, traffic is backed up a mile, and Really, who screwed up the choreography for this part?