The way the headlights sear the skies

Staring out the passenger window I watched as the landscape turned from cityscape to a kaleidoscope of dusty colors. Sometimes red. Sometimes yellow. Sometimes purple. A year now gone in this desert town and already the land is fading towards that blind spot in my eye. That spot where the familiar sights go and memory takes over. But not the mountains. Never the mountains. They are sentinel and timeless.