That morning in Dillon

The fissure runs deep up the verdant hillside, a crack of considerable length and depth, dividing the herd and I wonder where and how they come together.   Perhaps it is on the other side of the hill, just beyond the horizon, hidden by the marine layer.  The schism snakes in front of me in stark contrast to the gentle slope of the hillside, nature making the divide a thing of beauty. Seemingly out of nowhere, a shiver runs up my body and I pull tighter my open coat and head to the car.