Arroyo

There is a deep, desert-y arroyo on my walking route in the neighborhood. We suspect that the deer use it to come down from the foothills of the nearby mountain, since we occasionally spot a doe or a small-antlered buck grazing in the park at the entrance to the neighborhood.  In the mornings, the birds swoop and chirp and echo across the arroyo. It's a lovely spot.

Here it is in the daytime:

In the nighttime, the arroyo is very different. The bottom is impossible to see. The air is quiet, but not still -- the cool air that pools at the bottom of the arroyo slowly seeps out over the edges and onto the sidewalk. It's a little mysterious, and fascinating, this nighttime arroyo.

Sometimes I wonder whether The Void -- which I have been toe-ing, although I have not yet fallen in -- is like the arroyo. It wouldn't be so bad, then: it is a marvelous sliver of the desert, this arroyo. There would be places to explore and creatures to seek out, and interesting plants and rocks to examine. It would be a place of quiet contemplation. That would be satisfying. 

I like the arroyo.

I do not like The Void. 

Perhaps, if the Void is inevitable, I can re-envision it like the arroyo. 

We shall see.