We climb over hot stones and wade through coffee colored pools. Our backpacks scrape petroglyphs against the smooth rock wall. We are astronauts exploring this otherworld, this earth bound moonscape.
One evening, while chopping wood, we notice that the cliffs are laced with crystals so soft they melt between our fingertips.
When the blue sky falls and the black sky steps in to take her place, I walk into the sagebrush and declare:
"I am queen of the desert."
We fall asleep in the back of the truck, blanketed by a night soaked in molasses and sugar stars.
We wake up to bird song that sounds like dripping water, if dripping water could sing.
We greet the sun, and start again.