This came to me on my run this morning: There will be a day, a brilliant Spring day lost in the high desert. This desert I have called home these many years. There will be a day when my heart shudders and beats it's last. There will be a day when I lie down in that high desert to stare up at the electric blue sky. A Cooper's hawk flies overhead and circles back. With my last strength, I raise my hand and waive. He rocks his wings and flies away. I turn to look at the tawny mountains standing silent on the horizon these many years. They say "Life well lived, old friend. Rest now". And I will stare back up into that electric blue sky, turning brilliant white. And I will be free.