Every night, as the sun sinks behind the Organ Mountains to the west, I stand still and watch how it lights up this one tree.
The day the wind started throwing dust and sand into the air, the skies that evening reflected the change. Still, the light found a way through the clouds for just a moment. Sometimes that one moment is all it takes to remember the good.
The next day brought high winds, sporadic rain, small hailstones, and a dusting of snow on the mountains. At the end of the day, the desert was still as the clouds broke up and the sun returned for one brief moment.
Most days, the sky has been clear and the sunsets not so amazing. Still, I stand outside every night, bearing witness to the end of the day and the coming of the night.
We never know when we wake up in the morning if we’ll see the sunset at the end of the day. We always think we will. Still…
There is nothing to save, now all is lost,
but a tiny core of stillness in the heart
like the eye of a violet.
Dedicated to the memory of Jeanne Pupke (1955-2022)