Chaco Canyon

Under the waxing half-moon, my first night in Chaco Canyon wrapped me like a knowing medicine, prescribing a dose of dirt and stars. Contently cradled, gazing up until the horizon coaxed my eyelids down, I entered into a state of dreaming remembrance:


I was sitting in the canyon. The sky was of the quality of lighting shared between dawn and dusk. I was tracing the transition of high sharp edges to low soft boulders. From behind one of the outcroppings near the canyon wall emerged a coyote and mountain lion; Their brown bodies a living extension of the brown rocks and brown earth.


Side by side, they began their approach towards me; Low heads and unison steps. A stilling awareness seated itse