Luna's Uprising.

Flying around a bend in the river of road made magmic, crimson and bright--around Mt. Baldy. I spy her. Whispering duskily subtly spotted: a diagonal yawning platinum dawn discus drawn like ink, from Blackhearts coal Glacier Peak--through quill of raven variegated black. Nightrider’s pressing her--rising faster as the Captain steers in arched deviation, vaporizing the mountainside’s space—time, continually revealing her prematurely across sheeted panoramic glass control panels. One perfect circle—completing herself: pot-bellied, full. Suckling this rivers Captains and riders breath away. The land behind idles in diaphanous dark.