Let me die in the desert... Let my last breath be the flavor of sagebrush and creosote. Let me return to the source... and when the last swirls of color have abandoned the evening sky let my spirit settle like dust... under that maniacal Sonoran moon.
With the coyotes singing, the coatimundis screeching, and the Great Horned Owl calling out your name ... Lovely, gentle lines, ZW.
