Counting Falling Stars in Navajo Canyon

When the river interrupts, we listen. The ripples begin to sing and we lose our place, have to start all over again. The moon rises. Our eyes strain, casting huge nets to seine the sky. Between flares we tell each other stories of our lives like never before. It is good to be out in the open, good to talk to a friend and to listen. We lie awake a long time, give up at last and fall asleep at twenty-three.

About these ads
Sponsored Content by LockerDome

We want to hear, did we miss an angle we should have covered? Should we come back to this topic? Or just give us a rating for this story. We want to hear from you.

Loading...

Loading...

Loading...

Save for later

Save
Cancel

Saved ( of items)

This item has been saved to read later from any device.
Access saved items through your user name at the top of the page.

View Saved Items

OK

Failed to save

You reached the limit of 20 saved items.
Please visit following link to manage you saved items.

View Saved Items

OK

Failed to save

You have already saved this item.

View Saved Items

OK