It's a perfect April evening. Quiet. Peaceful. It comes on the heels of violent storms. Last night, all around me sirens blared, winds flared, and I slept, blissfully unaware, while friends worried about tornadoes and huddled their families in closets. Morning dawned on bent fences, scattered branches and a moisture in the air that permeated the senses ... like old wood left too long in the rain. Although I fell asleep tonight the same as I did last night, with the balcony doors open to the night, the sound of silence woke me. The breezeless night stirred me. The faintest shadows teased my eyelids like bright city lights ... until I opened them. That's irony.

So I lay here quietly, courting sleep, and instead of thunder, winds and lighting, there was only a silence so complete that it invited the distant song of coyotes, a harmony daylight and an encroaching civilization do not encourage. Their melody brought me to a sudden communion with those men (and women) who slept under the stars right here in these plains just a hundred years ago. It imbued me with a sense of eternity... a connection to all things living - past, present and future.

My dogs, who normally bark at the slightest rustle of anything, merely perked up their ears a moment to listen. And then they slid onto their backs, stretched their legs skyward and fell asleep. I think I'll do the same...