3 am in Death Valley

It’s one hundred and one degrees as I park the truck and climb into the bed at 3 am. Time to observe the stars in the universe in a way I haven’t done since my childhood.
A lone coyote howls deep into the desert night. I can feel the presence of bats flying around my head. I’m just outside of Furnace Creek in Death Valley.
It’s July 3rd.
The enormity and sheer size of the galaxy consistently takes my breath away. It’s a truly humbling moment that puts me in my place in this world.
It’s ironic that I write this the day after my country held it’s Presidential elections, with a vote that humbled me again with the outcome.
I’m overcome with sadness, yet not really surprised. I’ve felt for a long time that a majority of the people living here have a skewed sense of right and wrong.
I get the anti-establishment idea, but not through him.
I want to disappear into the night sky and float freely in the galaxy, not stuck here on earth trying to explain to my niece about the election results, and how a person that says the things he does was elected.
I feel a riot coming, and it will not end well.

Wench, bring my ale, what say you?