Twilight

The ever present breeze mysteriously subsides a moment just before sunset. To the West, a sea of prairie grass is back lit by a furnace red sky and creates the illusion of infinity. Roosters cackle as they give up their secret coverts, and in a sudden clash of wings migrate to the tallest grass that will be their security for the night. A wave of cool crisp air descends from above and challenges the last radiation of the setting sun. In the fading light the imagination projects images on the consciousness of wisps of smoke rising from hide tepees, and herds of bison grazing on the horizon. To Southward a lone butte is silhouetted in the twilight, a place of ancient ceremony and buffalo jumps. All motion in that moment seems to cease, as if the earths magnetism has locked all animate objects into the indelible image of a still photograph, black and white. The dogs sense hesitation and briefly pause to check in but remain on sensory overload with the sight and sound of birds in the air, and better scenting conditions from the settling atmosphere. Like us, they are addicts who must consume this perfection to its greatest extent, as unconsciously we know these moments are not absolute.