Around five-thirty p.m. Arizona
time in February as the sun begins

its descent and most everyone
else begins thinking about watching

the sun descend behind the White
Tank Mountains, the man, from his

lounge chair with his feet up on the
ottoman, looks out the sliding glass

doors to the east and the hill by his
condo, which from his vantage might

just as well be as high as Piestewa
Peak or Camelback Mountain. He

warms to golden tones which earlier
were just gray, unexceptional rock

and the glimmering flashes of light
off glassy quartz and wonders if coy-

otes, bobcats, javalinas and jack-
rabbits take time from their hunting

and hiding to pause and take it all
in or if that is just a human privilege.