You read the history of prey

Scattered about

The silt and sand of a slot canyon

Stacks of leaves sculpted by the force of water

From when the spring rains come through with a velocity that

Is louder than a freight train

Slippery sandstone

Painted the colors of sunset

Like a Georgia O’Keefe original

Craggy towers

Layers of history, of oceans, of lava

sandwiching sun, heat, and altitude

A hip joint of an elk, laid bare on the wash

The hip bone connected in a lock and key to the thigh bone

Still able to move, back and forth

Harkening back to an elegance

that must be akin to freedom

bounding over this landscape

The threads of sinew now curling away from the bone

Dancing in the winds at 5000 feet

Walking quietly now among the smoothened river stones

And the two of them, ahead of us on the trail

As it curves right, almost out of our view

Gasp in for air and grab each other’s arms

Backing up slowly

My knees weaken, heart starts racing as they yell

Stop!

And I think

Are we next

What bones and dust will be left

In the high desert sun

For others to stumble upon and touch with delicate, curious hands

Wondering at what wildness ran out

It was not the mountain lion

I had immediately envisioned

Padding down the canyon with confidence or

Curled up in a patch of sun

Tail flicking, casually, waiting

It was instead a gopher snake, no rattle

Thick, black and silver stripes

Eyes alert

Stretching itself across the trail

Body languid

Awakening after a long winter

Flicking its tongue in and out

Tasting the air

Feeling the wind

In the end

Wondering if the worst is almost over

The sand saturated with enough history

For today

For ever