I?m at the point in my life where I want to relax, and drop all material things. But I am plugged in. There?s no escape. There are those few quiet moments where I can see the cottonwoods bending in the wind, waving their mountainous branches. Or I can let the cold wind blow against my face on a late summer evening, sitting on the ledge of a sandstone cliff. I pull out of the fast lane for a few moments of intense silence, and remember when times were not so rushed, when I was innocent. My dream is in those unshapely cottonwoods that sway in the wind, singing like rivers. I won?t forget the dark thunderstorm on a late summer evening. While the front porch door slams and creaks in the undying wind, I will go out on the hammock and listen to the rain pelt the roof shingles.