The spring day was still in the valley; the distant storm clouds seemed to be more of a tease than an actual promise, despite their best efforts to appear ominous. Not many creatures were stirring, although few creatures stirred on any given day here. The solitude of the sands remained undisturbed, waiting for Valley Spirit to be made.
Except, that is, for the sound of hoofs, with the accompanying gentle nicker, of the horses. Closer and closer they came; before long the line of galloping horses crossed the valley floor as they quickly made their way to their chosen destination. Leaving a small trail of dust behind them, they were running free, running wild, and running for the sheer joy of the run. Manes and tails flowing out behind them, they tore across the valley floor.
Monument Valley is an iconic location, representing the American West in countless movies and photographs. Its towering buttes, jutting abruptly from the desert flow, provide a stark contrast of texture and height, and form the valley itself. It is the horses, running wild and free, that represent the spirit and essence of the valley. Long after they passed by, their echoes remained.
Later, after the horses departed, silence settled across the valley. A gentle breeze whispered across the sand, barely disturbing the sand. The sun stole across the sky, reached the edge of the day, and descended into darkness. One faint nicker could be heard from afar, letting us know the horses were still running free.