After watching a handful of feral horses grazing in prairie grasses, we climb to a high point. To the east are the stark and subtractive badlands exposing the head-scratching wonders of geologic time. To the west, are rolling hills of buffalo grass and wildflowers.
Following some carefree putzing along a ridge line photographing wildflowers, avoiding scat piles, and listening to a band of coyotes, the sun, in a predictable but improbable arrangement with it's satellite, bids farewell by painting the sky above the horizon.
We as willing and curious passengers, rotate into darkness.
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Sunset Buck Hill. Theodore Roosevelt National Park. |