ROOST I wish I could be like the chickens and fly up in the juniper tree at dusk, the moment night begins to squeeze the bright possibility of the day. Launching into sloppy concentrated flight and then hopping from branch to branch to find the perfect perch above the dark and crawling dangers that surface in the night. Or like the shining green hummingbird that takes one last drink of nectar from the still brilliant orange bloom and then darts away and up to the curling branches of the cottonwood trees. From this view, the full beauty of the purple and pink sky looms gracefully supreme and the shadowy confusion below disappears. - Erin Wade