A Nice Morning Walk

The desert air was still cool when I headed out, which doesn't last long in St. George. I laced up on the front step and went before I could think about it too much. The streets were empty except for the mourning doves. The Red Mountain cliffs were catching the early light — amber and rose, the kind of color that looks fake until you're standing in front of it. I took the trail I like that winds toward the bluffs, past the junipers and the sage. The sage smells incredible in the morning when there's still a little breeze. One of those things you forget until you're back in it. A jackrabbit froze on the path ahead of me. Enormous ears. Dark eyes. It looked at me for a second like it was deciding something, then disappeared into the brush in three jumps. I don't know how they move like that. I didn't think about much. That was the whole point. On the way back the sun had cleared the ridge and other people had started appearing — a woman with two dogs, an older guy with hiking poles, a couple moving fast with earbuds in. I nodded at all of them. They nodded back. That's the whole transaction. The cliffs were fully lit by the time I got home. I stopped at the end of the street and looked back at them for a second. Red rock, blue sky. Nice morning.