Father sun sinks. Sky darkens then burns and Coyote howls.
Some are called to the desert. Inspired and energized by the death, the dry, the sparse interspersed with the brilliance and urgency of life.
Coyotes, owls, lizards and snakes glide, prowl, creep and crawl past cactus blossoms colorful as drag queens.
Crypto-organisms cover the desert floor. Bacteria, fungi, algae and mosses knit a fibrous net that resists wind, forming a protective crust over the tunnels and burrows, the cool, dark places that desert dwellers call home.
Some are called to the desert.
Others are not suited for it they see only the emptiness, the bare cruelty of nature, although forests and coastlines are no less cruel. They need the embrace of the wet and the green.
In the desert they feel a dread, anxiety that approaches panic. Not aversion, but angst, a sort of existential allergy.
Some are called to the desert, to witness orange sunsets, disappearing behind distant hills, as blistering heat is replaced by the chill.
Desert Dweller 