The Valley Below
Rimming the horizon the craggy cliffs flicker and glow with the passing clouds over head taking them in and out of the early morning light. It is so quiet out here on the plain, the gentle rustle of wind stirs the dry grass but otherwise there is not a sound. We look for a passing lonely cowboy, a herd of stampeding longhorns, native Americans on dancing for rain or even the shake of a rattlers tail. But there is nothing, just us, the desert and our magnificent view.