Long colors spread across the sky, flamboyant and vivid, fading with time.

Gravity is suspended and the world glides effortlessly by.

In growing darkness warm hillsides cling to the day and cold canyons foretell the night.

Running is more by feel than by sight.

A full December moon rises, eerie in the clouds. Coyotes yip, yip, yip on a nearby hill.

An owl waits, and then fills the silence with a hoot, hoot, hooo…

I switch on my headlamp and it all disappears.