We pitch a tent at the end of long and winding dirt road.
I explore the places that haven't seen footprints in a hundred years.
When the clouds roll in and I'm chased off the mesa by the summer monsoons, I don't take it personally.
I sit on a sandstone cliff at the edge of the earth and thank the gods....
for my husband
for my dogs
for my sister who bought awesome new bandanas for the dogs
and for the chance, once again, to be in the place I love.
As I whisper these thoughts to the mountain and the moon and the setting sun, a dove flies out of the pinon forest and disappears over the canyon.