A goo hiker.
A hundred barn swallows bobbed through the cut grass, sifting and lifting up again.
Lightning silently highlighting clouds across the dark night sky.
Standing under the day's hottest sun, side by side and tail to nose, swatting flies.
(Colorful) Colorado was the Buffalo Plains State, the Lead State, the Columbine State, the Rocky Mountain State, and Mother of Rivers.
A chorus of crickets has sprung up, protesting sudden heat and humidity, as thick and soporific as the air itself.
Pilots are celebrating. Socked in for days, the horizon is translucent again, like butter left out.
It is not even dark. The moon is not out. The sky is still full of periwinkle. But a coyote is howling.
At dinner we discussed the fox, the coyote, the bobcat. No one mentioned the moon.