The Rockies our heart, sending its lifeblood south

We hiked out when everyone else is returning or has long finished, as so often seems to happen. It was nearly sunset when we began the slow, gentle climb up the mountain. We weaved beside a creek, through thick woods and past clearings dotted with yellow wildflowers. And as the sun sank, we rose, shifting our horizon, so that the reward for our ascension was an extension of the day. At the terminus of our hike, we reached a high waterfall: snowmelt cascading from the spires of the earth, bound for one river and then another, destined ultimately for the artery of the Colorado River. The Rockies our heart, sending its lifeblood south to our cities and our farms, warming as it flows to the Gulf of Mexico. And across from this waterfall, here was our view: the valleys below shrouded in shadow, the sun around a bend, the high slopes gold-tipped. As always, you know it’s growing dark, you know you should hurry back, but sight after sight hold you captive. Yet we weren’t worried — the moon would be nearly full that night.