Thorny tumbleweeds blown up against my door while isolated snowflakes whipped by, and the mountains stood snowy and blue-black against a chaotic sky of purples, grays and blues.
4 horses trotting north on the sidewalk along Paseo del Pueblo Norte, a chestnut, a white stallion, and two coal colored mares, eyes wide, scared, determined, heavy-headed, passing a line of traffic near Cid's, along the Valverde meadow.
People in the cafe talking about the downfall of capitalism (doesn't register), problems with unregistered cars in accidents (don't really know), asking me about bankruptcy and credit card debt (I wipe it out for people who file bankruptcy), asking me about military issue ammunition at Walmart (no idea), asking about the breadth of a US Passport (no idea). Others talked of yoga, releasing the hamstrings and so releasing the hips and so releasing the shoulders and so releasing the heart (inspiring, want to do it, need to hang and stretch my trunk today).
A long line of people at the electric coop paying their electric bills near shutoff time at the end of the month.
An elder man from the Pueblo, dressed in turqoise slacks, with rich, dark skin, smiled at me in line at the bank, and we talked about the cold and his new blossoms that may die tonight. When he was done with the teller, he turned to me, smiled again and told me to "be well."
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