Imagine standing by this water on a crisp winter day as the rush of cold breeze caresses your face.
This is the Verde Valley’s Clear Creek at flood stage. In a normal flow, water is half this volume, but the creek bed anticipates change. Over the millennia the water has hollowed out a wide swath of normally dry land, preparing for potential that only happens once or twice a season. The trees standing in water are patient, knowing the snow melt from the San Francisco Peaks will eventually pass.
For the desert, this ebb and flow of the water passage is as inevitable as breath itself.
We, too, breathe in and out, allowing room for the intake gasp of surprise and that deep outward sigh of satisfaction.
Snow, snow over the whole land
across all boundaries.
The candle burned on the table,
the candle burned.