Planisphere

BreathlikeJust as the day could use another hour,I need another idea. Not a conceptor a slogan. Something more like a rutmade thousands of years ago by one of the firstwheels as it rolled along. It never came backto see what it had done, and the rutjust stayed there, not thinking of itselfor calling attention to itself in any way.Sun baked it. Water stood, or rather satin it. Wind covered it with dust, then blew itaway. Always it was available to itselfwhen it wished to be, which wasn't often.Then there was a cup and ball theoryI told you about. A lot of people had left the coast.Squirt conditions obtained. I forgot I overwhelmed youonce upon a time, between everybody's sound sleepand waking afterward, trying to piece togetherwhat had happened. The rut glimmeredthrough centuries of snow and after.I suppose it was trying to make some pointbut we never found out about that,having come to know each other years laterwhen our interest in zoning had revived again.