Shadows of mountains guard the thin ground of this life. The high dry canyons stretch out among seamless dunes in the magic Western plains. Footprints in leaf rot, the sweet smell of season’s end in cool shadowed green. The beauty of light is cupped in silence in cactus flowers, ghost flowers, in the trickling mirror of freshwater pools. Can we go on from here? Have we the power to lift the balm of shadow for the silence of light?