Sun Setting. On my rock.
I am just sleeping here.
Vultures circle overhead in search of food. They have scoured every inch of this place many times over. This is their home.
I am just a visitor here.
Squirrels jump from tree to tree below; the green-spotted cottonwood branches dancing under their weight.
I am just a human here.
A lizard scurries across a lichen splotched rock, as a hummingbird darts to and fro, flower to flower.
I am just a creature here.
The sky is a welcoming friend, reminding me there is a whole other world to be seen. The sun dips below the canyon rim.
I am just another being here.
The rocks here are formidable, but not impervious. Water has shaped them. In a time when this place could not have been rid of it, the rocks melted away and yielded to the torrent. Now the basin is parched and the rocks are dry and crumbling, tears of black streaming down their faces. Night is here.
I am just here.
The trees are still. No sounds to be heard. No vultures or lizards. No squirrels or hummingbirds. The wind too is tired after a long day and lays to rest. Now the canyon sleeps.
I am happy here.