Twilight

The plains held waves of grass. And rich earth. The fluttering birds and bison running through and over. Further west—it held the dry sand and its agonizing downpours. The water and dirt mixing, mixing, mixing. Clay and salt and quartz. Body and blood and heart. Mixing. Mixing. The scream of the wind breathing in and through. Up and out. Mixing. Making new things from the dirt.

Twin gods, creators Tierra and Cielo, making lost and lonely things. Cielo rising those in the surf and Tierra burying the others in the sand.

They each held an equal love for their lonely, lost things. And each held a vibrant pride. The kind that was desperate, the kind that made them foolish.