Cotton tails and jacks lope away from the headlights as we chatter our way up the mesa.
Standing at the volcanoes, under an outrageous moon, twirling under stars, breathing deep the sweet scent of desert grass still wet from rain, stories on stories tumble from both of us, we try to teach each other our whole lives in one night.
We're wild mares, gamboling in moonlight. We're craggy boulders, firm on the earth. We're giggling girls, running with wind in our fists. We're ancient witches, keeping the Wild Things free.
She shimmers silver of moon and my eyes are moist with joy. She glows with silliness and hope and strength and anger. Her hair wafts up from her face in a halo of light.
I hold her, to satisfy this ache in my breast bone, where I want her to be.
A small yawn escapes her mouth and I know she needs to sleep. So I'm the one who says we must leave.
We chatter back down the mesa, into the twinkle of city, wind blowing our hair.
I gather her soft hair in my tingling fingers and tug gently. I tell her again how beautiful she is, what a Gift she is for me.
She's already making plans for us to have other adventures.
My heart opens like mouthes of a hundred-voice chorus.
I'm falling in love.
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