I took a walk before dinner on a ridge above our house. I sat on the bluff looking at everything below me. The air was mild, but the humidity was missing---and in its place, the dry chill to remind me that it is November. The sun sat low in the sky, bathing everything in amber light. Down below the lights in the houses came on one by one.
In the salmon pink sky, airliners at forty thousand feet left streaming contrails that shone like gold against the quickly darkening sky. A moment later the sun disappeared entirely and left a pink afterglow that quickly faded to indigo. The wind picked up and gave me a chill. I sat in silence for another minute until I heard a coyote call his pack with a plaintive howl. He was answered with a dozen yips in return.
They were close, so I walked back toward the house, home and hearth. I smelled dinner on the stove and heard the kids playing. It felt good. It felt right. I looked back up at the dark ridge, happy to know that the sun would rise over it in the morning as the coyotes retired for the day.