Southwest Passage — Loose Print

On the last day of a five-day trip to Coyote Gulch, I waited for the one minute I'd planned for—the sun sliding low enough to thread the arch and strike the trees beyond. Late-fall leaves drifted past as I stood in the creek, feet going numb, listening to the water and wind. Then the alcove kindled like a coal. The grove on the far side lit up in electric greens and golds, and a bright ribbon ran down the surface of the stream toward me.