A prayer. Sparrows, butterflies, ravens, hawks, turkey vultures soar overhead. I'm sitting where, a few weeks ago, I saw a Diamondback Rattlesnake stretched across the road, in the backcountry behind town, wedged between Mount Raisin and Red Mountain, surrounded by golden waving grasses, dirt, stones, and sand of multiple hues between tannish white and peachy orange. Junipers and Acacias, Yuccas and Mesquites, and a blue true dream of sky that yes, encapsulates my sitting here under it, on coppery Earthen soil, a road that I've walked on before, and today walked to--- the low guttural caw of ravens, awkwardly riding the thermals, with one graceful hawk soaring far above them, gliding with nary a wing movement, every so often the subtlest angling of wings or tailfeathers, to direct the air. Deer in the forest, nibbling neon green fresh grass growth, fresh grass under cover of mesquites, oaks, and sycamores, streamsides, hilly, vines hanging, herbs underfoot. I smile as I run through here, then slow to savor and appreciate it--- reminds me of other forests I love, this small one that I jogged down the dried river bed to get to, who I've not yet even known for one season, but already find familiar and comforting, in its abundance of shady trees, and plant life. Here now, hillside--- surrounded by grass and sky, no covering trees shading, supporting, protecting, hiding. Naked sky, bright blue, completely exposed. Ravens cawing excitedly, sparrows' alarm call, the final cicada, one headless fly, then another. Sudden realization/ appreciation of where I currently am. Sun warming back, hunger in belly, parched throat, gentle breeze, the smell of dirt with every inhale. I could walk forever. I could stop and sit here forever. Anything could happen at any moment--- this stillness is pregnant with possibility, the birdsong and wind echoing into forever, a slight whiff of some sweet final remnant of summer on the wind, the overwhelming dryness, the golden hues surrounding me, resplendent against the blue sky mystery that wraps us all. What hope? Where? Deer strutting through the forest, one leg in front of the other, proud yet aware, and cautious. Creaking trees, swaying in the wind. Seeds buoyed by their pappus parachutes, drifting to lands distant, neighboring, or both to replant. One little seed bulging with all the genetic material to create a whole new plant, more seeds. Purple butterfly, encircling my head, then away down the road. Biting fly. Onwards.
