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In the distance a lizard scampers into a cool hole. It is a desert dawn. A coyote sleeps. The cacti stand alone.

Sun and heat rise in unison. A hawk circles in a clear blue sky, searching for prey. It is a desert noon.

Hot winds rustle few leaves of few trees. Clouds charge over the low lying mountains. Winds rip over the rocky floor. Clouds speak in great roars of thunder. Dust is whirled through the air. Light connects ground and sky in dazzling flashes. The storm pounds through the land, yet no water reaches the surface. It is a desert evening.

Desert Day

Stars peek past the retreating clouds, illuminating the shadowy skyline. Eyes of hunting coyotes reflect the moon’s light. The creatures are active. An owl’s hoot pierces the dark landscape, followed by a lonely, distant howl. While all the time underlying insect sounds fill in for silence. It is a desert night, preparing for a desert dawn.

Zachary M. W. Little August 26th, 1997