The Sahel's green beat, for will.i.am

will.i.am, it's me, the planet. You sent a song home from Mars, where no one could hear it played aloud. I play mine out loud every year. Rain drums up from the south, the dust turns green, and then I exhale. I've kept this beat for millennia, and never alone: grass, herders, wind, and all of us. To your question: yes, I love you, and I'm glad you're listening. From orbit, Planet's satellites let people watch the whole rhythm unfold. We're all keeping time together.