From the summit of a granite cliff, overlooking a lush valley, the slender silhouette of a coyote was sharply etched against the ground cracked by the arid breeze. His tousled fur blended with the irresistible hues of the valley calling his name. A gust of wind shook the quiote of an agave plant, and from the blooming colorful top, contrasting with the clarity of the sky, a blanket of pollen fell, filling the air with a primordial fragrance. The coyote gazed curiously at the infinite sky that seemed to devour the splendid valley. In an instant, he recalled the urban
madness he had escaped, and he began to howl in harmony with the rumbling wind. His echo reverberated in the distance, where every sound of nature had suddenly ceased.
In this reverent quiet, the coyote sensed the depth of the moment. Weary and disheartened, the coyote howled again, louder this time, so even the mountains could hear him from afar. Yet, there was no reply – not even the turquoise air greeted the coyote, who turned abruptly in an act of departure. Suddenly, a cry fell from the sky, and the prevailing light turned green. Trapped in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, the coyote observed a dark figure tear through the sky and gracefully descend toward the valley. It was a red-tailed hawk, the guardian of the desert. Hovering mid-air and displaying its beautiful pale vermilion tail, the coyote’s heart skipped a beat. After the lonely journey that now separated him from a bleak existence, the coyote realized this moment would last forever. Thus, spurred on by the hawk’s cries, he proudly raised his muzzle as the bird circled in front of him against the jade horizon. One last time, the coyote arched his back. His fur, bristly and blond from the sunlight, gleamed as if he were a sacred creature. His howl flowed down the cliff, and the colors of the valley, animated by such wildness, blossomed one by one. In a timeless splendor, life would continue to unfold in an endless climax, because the coyote was now at home.