The Pug Makes Me Happy

The 12 year old pug makes me happy. She's fat, snorty, slow, and humorous. I love the pug...it makes Wyoming funny.

Whispers in Wyoming

Black clouds hover above casting giant shadows on the mountains and valleys below. There is a crack in the darkness and sunlight pierces through. It breaks the black pattern below, etching a river of light across the earth and illuminating the life beneath it.

The light breathes warmth - a gentle whisper of welcome coaxing little creatures to expose their heads, allowing flowers one more gasp of life before they are again shrouded. Wind pushes unhindered across plains and mountains - an invisible force...one can only see the effects of its power. I feel the wind push against my body, brush up against my face. It carries the sunlight's whisper; it tells me secrets. I shudder against its breath, laugh at its words. The wind is a good companion; I tell it my secrets and they are embraced, carried away across unknown places. Surround me wind, take my secrets, take my whispered words and breathe them into open ears.

I open my arms, the wind closes around me, and I am carried away...carried away by wind.