Laura awake, sky is deep blue and purple through slats on window shades, haze on horizon yellow in brown far away. and high in east is bright Venus. Her eyes lay on it as her mind clear. It seem her it is brighter in that frost February air and pulse, with little halo. It makes a spot on her eyes, so that when she closes them, Venus is still there. And they open again, and the floating spot fall on the floor, where her shadow lay head and torso over the bedroom door. In that Venus light spot the shadow seem waves and her eyes close again, head lays down on the pillow and Laura tries return to sleep. But the Venus spot shifts in her eyelid hallucinations, and she opens eyes again, and rubs them. Her shadow is now not cast on the door, but under it, head and shoulders disappear in the crack. She rubs her eyes again, and the shadow is further out, only legs and feet on the rug. Laura sits straight up and the shadow does not follow her. It is gone, out the door. She holds out her hand and Venus light lay on the wall, as if her hand is perfect clear glass. She is alone in the room without her shadow. Laura shivers away her blankets and any thought about go back to sleep, buts on some slippers and her robe, and opens the bedroom door to see the shadow slipping through the kitchen to the East, to the backdoor over the yard and the corn field beyond; under the crack it goes, and Laura pulls open the door and follows it in the cold light. There she sees the shadow grow, darker in furrows and brighter in ice puddles and on stubble; it stretches out, hand towards her, hands reaching North and South, legs drawn out in long ropes that extend like railroad tracks to the horizon. And then more, Laura sees two more hand shadows stretching from North and South, joining with her shadow. and on that time, with great shadow nazca lines before her, it seems Laura that Venus's light waxes and pulses. And then she know it pulsed, because the shadow darker ripples, it is heat or steam over asphalt, though the air is freezing. Then the shadows hold arms tighter, and Laura sees them fly up in the blue violet sky, black bird shapes appear from the horizons, rise up to the vanishing point, an unbroken chain of shadows flying up in a ring. and she sees the inverse halo set darker and tighter around the Morning Star, and their heads and legs tighter and tighter. It makes her eyes hurt to look at that millions strong Koch curve of human shadows, but it is so beautiful and wonderful she can't look away. The ring seems to her to glow black as Venus pulses brighter and brighter, the blue violet fading to robin egg, then to white. And one last pulse blinding light, Laura finally looks away; it is like if the sun were the distance away of the moon, but with none the heat. and then the light suddenly fades, and her vision is only one full gray white spot. And for minutes she can see nothing while she leans and breathes against the door. When it finally clears she looks up. The bright pulse of Venus fades to a steady, benign blow. The fractal ring breaks apart, long stretching falling back to earth, back over the horizon. Her shadow releases its adjoining hands as it sets down in the corn stubble, legs reversing, as they pull west to Laura standing at the door. And finally the shadow locks on her body behind her, feet under her feet. Laura turns to look at the shadow, lays her head against the door, against that part her that was always with her. And it seems her warm and comfortable, and she not fear it, or wonder if it will walk away from her again. She looks up at steady glow Venus in the now become morning red and yellow. Was it a miracle from God or gods? A beautiful rare thing that charge the dark with planet light? Or was it that last effort in souls final ritual, that all shadows along the horizon stretched out their dark for to make an un-beacon of protection? And if protection, what did that 500 suns bright pulsing mean? Who or what human shadows are protect against? Laura returns to the kitchen to wonder these things, and she sets the kettle to boil. Because, though there is still hours before sun breaks over the trees, she will find no more sleep until Venus fades in the morning light.
