Night in the desert

It is night in the desert.

The moon rides like a silver dinner plate behind organ pipe cactus that
cast slender indigo and purple shadows in their wake.

A gopher stops to look at the moon, whiskers twitching. Overhead an owl
creaks slowly past on his nightly rounds.

The moon looks at its reflection in a pool that suddenly ripples like
crinkled silk as a cube bounces across its surface.

A riderless horse stooping to drink shatters the silk to shards. He
shakes his tail and a shower of gnats take to the air.

Lifting his head to listen the horse looks into the distance, ears laid
back. His eyes white with terror, his nostrils wide, he senses the
coming storm.

On flies the owl, the gopher hanging limply from his talons.

The sage brush rustles louder and louder. Thin purple clouds streak
across the moon. The horse takes a last long drink.

As the wind speed increases the cube bobs faster and faster in the pool
before a strong gust suddenly flings it onto the bank.

The horse starts to canter, up and away from the pool, his tail
thrashing, his head pitching.

One of the horse's stampeding feet crushes the cube into a thousand
sparkling pieces that toss and turn up into the moonlight like a swarm
of dragonflies.